East of Deliverance
by Mainslee
Summary: "Ain't no sorrows left in me, Sunshine. All I've got are my demons."
1. Chapter 1

He definitely isn't a walker.

At least not at the moment. His skin is intact with his face, though unwashed and scratched. The leather jacket that he is wearing is scuffed at the elbows and the stitching around the angel wings on the back have begun to fray. With old worn boots and holey jeans, this was obviously his usual attire. Blood has been pooling under the right side of his face. His lashes begin to seep into the redness and his breathing is labored.

If the motorcycle had not been lying beside him it would have seemed like he had merely plunged from the sky, the wings he wore having been broken. The man hasn't moved in several minutes.

_Just leave him, _the adrenaline is pumping through me now knowing that at any minute he might reanimate. _Straight through his brain,_ logic is coaxing my hands as they inch closer to his face. But my heart startles and pleads, _help him._

Before I decide which to listen to, his arm twitches and I lower into a crouch, my breaths coming in wild and contracted. His forehead crinkles and his eye lids flutter. A soft moan escapes him and my first instinct is to plunge my knife in his temple, but then his eyes are open and I can see a clear blue iris' staring at me. No sign of infection.

I sigh with relief and fall back onto my ass. He huffs out a breath as he pulls his arms in to slowly push himself up. He stares at me. I can't tell if he's in shock or is trying to decide if I'm going to kill him or not. He doesn't appear alarmed. His eyebrows lower and scowl at me, obviously not liking the attention I'm giving him. The creases by his eyes deepen with the expression and he looks exhausted. Exhausted but alive.

"Who are ya?" he grunts as he finally stands. He towers over me now and though my mind says to get up too and take away the upper hand, my body says _no_. I am too tired. Up until I had heard the loud screeching of metal and asphalt I had been laying out in the woods. There was a large field a few yards in from the road. I had lain down and pressed my cheek into the soft grass. I was ready to die.

His hand waves down in front of my face, "hello?" he winces at the gesture and holds his arm to his side.

"I heard you crash," I say as I finally meet his eyes. I do a once over of his body. He isn't putting weight on his right leg and there is a lot of blood on his face. "How bad are you hurt?"

"What's it to ya?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

He stares at me again.

"I don't need none of ya help so don't worry ya pretty little head over it," he tried to pick the bike up but stumbled, not having any balance due to his injured leg.

"You sure you should ride that right now? You obviously aren't very good at it."

"Who the hell do ya think ya is? Huh? Some goddamn little hero or somethin'? Get lost."

His remarks surprise me. If he is all alone wouldn't help be nice? I am starting to regret helping him in the first place. Hell, I could have been dead by now. Maybe I would have crawled my way out to him and chomped down on his ungrateful self.

I got up, putting my knife back into my boot and headed back from where I had come. He didn't call out. He didn't try to stop me. So I left him huffing and puffing trying to stand that scrap of bike back up.

The blue sky begins to blend with dusk as the sun slips behind the tall trees lining the field. I can still see my imprint in the blades as I sink back down. This time I lay down on my back, wondering if I would make it till night to see the stars one last time.

The only thing I could hear was the pathetic attempt of the man to start his bike. He had to of known it was hopeless. _Poor son of a bitch_. The droning sound of its engine and the occasional curses eventually lulled me into the place of content. It had been days since I had slept for more than a few hours. Now I could forever.

"What the fuck ya doin'?"

His rough voice dislocates me from sleep. He is standing over me, a bag hanging from his shoulder and a cross bow in his left hand.

"Waitin.'"

He looks around and casts his stony eyes back down to me, "For what exactly?"

"I'm not really sure yet."

"Walkers?"

I open my eyes again, "I guess. Not like I'm waitin' for my prince charmin' or nothin.' Unless you're him?" I let a smirk spread across my face. He glares harder.

"Ya hit ya head or somethin'? 'Cause ya dumb as fuck if you stay out in the open like this. Ya gunna die."

I look at him blankly, challenging him to give me one good reason that dying wasn't the best option in our current situation. His face is vacant of expression. He shifts his weight and sucks in air again. The blood from his leg is seeping down his pant leg.

He seems to be trying to decide what to do.

Throwing his bag down beside my head, he lowers himself to the ground and ruffles through the pack, "at least make yaself useful before ya call it quits and help me stitch up m'leg," he tosses a small first aid kit at me.

"What the hell should I do that for?"

He doesn't answer but rolls up his jeans, right up to his knee exposing a bloody gash. I let out a soft whistle at the sight and hesitate before opening the kit. There is some gauze, a few pills, dark string and a hooked needle.

"Well go on, I don't got all damn day."

I take the needle and thread it wordlessly, unsure of why I was even bothering to do this. I move closer to him and grab his ankle, stretching his leg across my lap.

"Don't gotta fondle me just stitch the damn thing."

"You want my help or not?"

Without another word I start at the top of the wound and criss cross my way down. When it is lined with small x's, I reach in the kit and remove some gauze and finish with wrapping the last of the medical tape around his calf. He hitches his leg back as soon as I am done.

I collapse back into the grass and wait for him to leave.

"Ya really tryin' to commit some suicide right now?"

"No point in stickin' 'round. Everybody's dead anyway. You're the first alive person I've seen in a long ass time."

"Shouldn't you be jumpin' for shit then?"

"If the people life over in this world are anythin' like you, I'll pass."

He grunts and I hear him shuffling away.

"Where are you going anyway?"

He doesn't turn around. "I have a group to get back to."

"How many?" I sit up; slightly bewildered at the fact he had people, let alone a group of them waiting for him. When I had no one.

"I don't know. A dozen if everybody got out."

"Got out?"

"Whatchu care for anyway?" He is impatient.

Realizing I wasn't going to get an offer and unwilling to ask for one I tell him I don't care, was just wondering. I watch him tread through the tall grass all the way across the field and disappear into the woods.


	2. Chapter 2

It's completely dark now.

There is no sound but I hear the loneliness breaking my bones. The cracks reverberate through the trees. Or maybe just through my ears. I can't tell anymore.

The rest of it seeps down from me into the ground. I am completely empty. I am so empty that it hurts.

I don't know how much time has passed since the man left, or how much longer it will take for the walker to finally make its way to me. I can hear it. The gnawing groan. It must be dragging a leg because the tall grass on the opposite side of the field is being pushed aside. I can't see it yet.

_Hurry. _I think about getting up and moving towards it to speed the process up. But I don't think I have enough left for that. _All good things come to those who wait_.

The only thing keeping me intact is skin, until of course it is ripped from my hollowed bones. Why doesn't this scare me?

I start to sing. A little encouragement for the walker incase it needs reminding of its purpose. It is not loud and is mostly drowned out by the moans that are closing in.

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,__  
__That saved a wretch like me..._

It is a few yards from me now; I can see it over my feet. I'm choking out the words with dry heaves but it stops moving and sways. Its arms are hanging limply, like rotten branches that the wind is trying to cut away from a tree in a desperate attempt to save it. It looks like a man, or at least a young teenager. There are patches of black hair sticking this way and that. I can see its yellowing teeth through the hole in its cheek. Its eyes are clouded a shade lighter than its teeth. It looks hungry. But more than that, it looks sort of sad.

_I once was lost but now am found,_

_Was blind, but now, I see._

This is my funeral and here is my grave. I cross my hands upon my chest, closing my eyes.

But the moaning stops and there is a loud thud. When I open my eyes, I am startled by the blue ones above me. He raises a brow but doesn't say anything. He steps around me and walks over to the carcass. The left over flesh tears as he yanks the arrow from its skull. He is walking back towards me but stops to turn back the other way and seems to be peering in the darkness.

I prop myself up onto my elbows and watch him.

With wide eyes he turns back, "Get up! Get up now!"

There's a sharp pain in my shoulder as his large hand yanks me upward. Now he claps onto my wrist and I think it may dislocate from my arm. I look back and see a herd. Dozens of bodies stumble together towards us. I am being dragged through foliage and across the road. I see his bike, the moonlight shining off of it. We run past it. Through more underbrush we go and I trip over branches but he still pulls me along.

We run, and we run. I don't know how long we go but a fire is burning up through my legs and out of my throat. We are faster than the walkers but they do not tire like I do. I don't think the man has slowed down in the past half hour except for when he is yanking me back up to my feet.

I try to beg for him to stop so that I can catch my breath but when I pull back he simply says 'no time.' We run.

It is dawn and we are still moving. Slower now than before, we trudge through the muddy ground and leaves stick to my boots. He hasn't let go of me yet and my skin is raw where his calloused hands circle it.

I start to see spots and they dot around the back of his head. I slow down and he yanks me harder but this time when I fall the pain of the ground is more comforting than the walking. I'm heaving. I'm crying. I cannot breathe.

Finally, my wrist is freed and the man kneels before me. He brings a bottle of water to my mouth. It feels colder than it is, sweeter too. I choke on the liquid and he tells me to slow down. I'd like to drink it all but I don't. He needs it too.

He still doesn't say anything and my head pounds so hard I don't think I could cluster any words together that would remotely make sense. He tries to help me up but I just gag again and shake my head. I don't have this drive he seems to. I can't go on like this; running through the woods, hoping and praying to God that I can outlast the monsters chasing me, it's not any way to live.

"Just a lil' farther. I think there's a river up 'head. We can rest there."

I'm up again but we don't run. He doesn't drag me this time either. I find my footing and trail closely behind him. Maybe I can drown myself in the water when he isn't looking.

"What's yer name?" He yanks off my boots and sets my swollen, blistered feet in the cool water.

"Easton."

"Ya gotta last name?"

"White." I don't want to talk to him. I don't want a conversation about my past or his or anyone else's.

He takes the hint and sits down beside me. He unlaces his own boots and shoves his feet in next to mine. "The names Daryl Dixon, by the way. Not that yer askin.'"

Daryl Dixon. He seems more redneck than ever. I can tell he's from the general area because of his drawl but I don't ask where. I don't care.

"Ya hungry?" He is standing up and slinging his cross bow onto his shoulder. He peers into the trees and takes aim. The arrow whistles out of its holster and I watch the squirrel fall down to the dirt.

"Yer not gunna run off if I go get it right?" He asks. He actually seems hesitant to leave.

"No," I reply.

He huffs and retrieves the small animal. He rounds up some sticks and starts a small fire. The smell of its burning flesh makes me gag. But then hot meat is being shoved in my hands and I'm chewing on the searing animal.

When I'm done eating I wipe off my feet with a red rag Daryl gives me and shove my shoes back on. He is throwing stuff back into his pack and stands.

"Alright, sunshine. Let's get movin'."

"Why?"

"Whatchu mean why? Walkers. That's why." His impatience is hard to miss.

"No, I mean why do I have to go with you?"

He looks at me but I don't think he quite sees me. I think he is seeing someone else because his face softens for a quick moment but then is quickly replaced by a hard glare. "'Cause I ain't lettin' anyone else die if I can help it. Now get up."

We stay on the river's edge and follow it south. I think. The trees are scarcer here and the sun beats down on us. My shoulders are burning from the rays but I can't bring myself to put my heavy flannel back on to protect them. I want to take my knife and cut the lower half of my jeans off but then I would freeze at night.

The weather was slowly changing. Winter was coming. I only hope I won't be around to see it.

After another hour or so we stop. He found two more squirrels and again, we ate in silence. He let me rest longer than he said he should of but it was nice. My muscles ache from the long and constant movement.

"Do I look like her?"

He looks up from the squirrel. "Like who?"

"Like whoever you lost."

He chews thoughtfully and squints. "Nah." His head shakes solemnly; I presume trying to rid his mind of the person's image.

"Then why is savin' me so damn important to you?"

"I ain't got to explain myself to ya." He throws the bones down and stands. "Let's go."

"No."

He grabs my arm and pulls me up but I shove him back. He stumbles into the rivers rockery and twists his ankle, "ya stupid bitch!"

I return his glare and stock off into the trees, leaving him cursing at me.

Eventually he catches up to me and roughly grabs my shoulder spinning me around.

"Let me go you hill billy bastard! I don't want to go with you! Just leave me be!" I shove him again.

He pushes me back harder.

"Fine then! Go die! Whatever. I don't give a shit!" He is yelling so loud he doesn't even hear the damn thing coming up behind him, "stupid-god damn- princess-shit -"

I wind my arm back and chuck the knife towards him. He ducks to the side.

"What the fuck is the matter with ya!"

I stare back at him and nod my head in the direction of the walker that is pinned against the tree. The blade rested right between its eyes. I smile slightly in appreciation.

"God damn."

I shove past him and rip the weapon out of the tree and the walker.

"Look, I ain't sayin' you got to live forever but just at least until I find my group, alright? Just until then."

"Why?"

"So I at least know I did everythin' I could this time. Plus, ya seem pretty damn useful." He doesn't look at me when he says this. He stares at the bloody knife I'm holding. I want to ask more, but I don't. I can't get wrapped up in his problems. I have enough of my own.

"Fine."

And we walk.


	3. Chapter 3

We've been walking all morning. Daryl had roughly woken me before the sun had even come up. He was calm, though he was rushing me in a frantic manner. I didn't know whether to be worried or mildly curious. But then he said he had found a walker caked to his knees in mud with a herd dragging its way in our direction. We left behind the cave we had been sleeping in, holding it down would be more trouble than it was worth.

So, again, for the fourth week straight, we set out among the barren trees and cold temperatures to try and find another place. And this is our life now; all we do is look for shelter and all we do is pick the wrong spots. Nowhere is safe and nowhere will ever be home.

The silence has begun to hum too loudly in my ears and I think I am starting to forget the sound of my own voice. I've noticed Daryl doesn't like to talk unless completely necessary, but I can't take the quiet.

"Why'd you come back for me?"

He looks back at me confused. "That day in the field."

He squints as if it will help him remember, "I hit a cliff so I had to double back. Figured I'd have better luck on the other side of the road."

I nod in understanding, "you didn't come back for me."

"I didn't expect ya to still be there." He says softly. His cross bow hangs loosely around him.

"How do you do this?" I get the look again, "Wouldn't it be easier to just give up?"

He doesn't answer me for a good few minutes. "I used to think about it. Offin' the group so they don't suffer in the long run. Save a bullet for me." His head shakes in disgust.

"What's stopping you? I'll volunteer to go first." My pace quickens to catch up to him, like a child being offered a reward.

"What's with ya and wantin' to die?" He sounds annoyed.

"I wouldn't say I'm suicidal or anything," he laughs harshly, "but I think if you put a gun to my head, I wouldn't beg for my life." His head shakes again. "I might even thank you," I add.

"What's it going to take to get ya to stop thinkin' like that?"

I pause and look at him. "Nothin.'"

We walk.

"Can I ask you something' Sunshine?"

"You know, I have a real name, lot more creative than one based on my hair too."

"I ain't callin' you it 'cause of your hair. It's for yer sunny and bright outlook on life."

I roll my eyes and stare at him expectantly.

"If yer so hell bent on offin' yaself how come ya didn't let that walker get me?" he asks. "Solve all ya problems don't it?"

I consider it, though I already know my reason: like he said, he had people to get back to. Me on the other hand, no one would notice my absence. There would be no tears shed or nights spent in unrelenting grief for my death. I was starting to realize that I was actually quite irrelevant in the whole scheme of things.

"Because you matter to someone." I angrily swat a branch out of my way.

"And ya don't?"

"Not anymore." I walk ahead of him now, mad at myself for breaking the silence in the first place.

We don't talk for the rest of the day.

I was 23, fresh out of college, with my first day of work at a record label. I had just gotten home from a run and peeled my clothes of before jumping into the shower. I was thinking of that guy from last weekend, what I needed from the store, and whether I wanted to actually cook tonight or just buy take out. When I had finished getting ready, I grabbed my keys off the kitchen counter, threw my purse over my shoulder, and was heading for the front door. I heard a groggy groan, assuming it was my roommate, Nilaya. But when I turned around it wasn't her. It was some other version, with dark circles under her eyes, the green in them glossed over, and her tan skin was flawed with blotchy spots. Then she was unconscious on the floor, I was calling 911, and we were quarantined for 48 hours in a hospital.

And that's how it happens. There's no warning. The day is over. Your best friend is dead and everything you know doesn't really matter anymore.

I would have done a lot of things differently if I had known that the world was going to end. I wouldn't have given it up to Jimmy Brooks in the back of his mom's station wagon. I wouldn't have spent three years on the cheerleading squad just because my mom had when she was in high school. I would have studied harder so I could of went to a real college instead of just excepting that my parents expected me to stick around and give them grandchildren.

"Easton?" I break out of the thought as Daryl says my name.

"My dad, he was an attorney. Back when I was younger, he had this client that was really into huntin' so he used to take me out with him when he'd go practice before their trips. Then when I was twelve I finally watched _Bambi_ and I refused to go back out." I laugh at the memory. "That was the last thing we really had in common. My mom ran a book club and volunteered at a woman's shelter. My parents wanted me to stay in Georgia, meet a guy, and settle down. But I wanted more than that." I look over at him, "I took off to Florida and started school. I lived in a rundown apartment with a girl I had met in class freshman year and I worked at this divvy restaurant durin' the week and a surf shop on the weekends. It's not like they disowned me or anythin' but they wouldn't pay for me to waste my time. I guess I didn't really try to stay in touch."

"That why yer back in Georgia? To find 'em?"

"Yeah, that's why I came home."

As I said the word, it felt wrong in my mouth. Georgia wasn't my home anymore. The house I went back to wasn't mine and the walkers stumbling around inside of it weren't my parents.

"Did you find 'em?" He asks carefully.

"No." The way I said it must make him understand because he doesn't push the subject.

"What about you?"

"Didn't go to no fancy college or nothin' like that. Parents were both dead, brother was a mean son a bitch, always bailin' him out a somethin,' worked at a bike shop."

"I tell you all that, and that's what you give me?"

"There ain't nothin' else to give," he picks away the meat around the bone and throws it into the small fire.

I get up to go to the bathroom and Daryl grabs my wrist roughly. "What?"

"Where ya goin'?"

"To pee?"

He examines me and then looks out in the direction I was headed. "Then come straight back."

"Okay, mom. Jesus." I stomp off from our make shift campsite.

He doesn't trust me.

It probably has something to do with our conversation the day before. He refuses to leave me alone for more than ten seconds in case I decide to bolt and throw myself off a cliff. And it's not like I haven't thought about it but it seems like a lot more trouble than it's worth. The way I see it, we'll both probably be dead soon enough anyway.

It's been a lot longer than ten seconds and Daryl is probably throwing a massive fit right now. But being away from constant watch is a nice feeling. The woods used to scare me when I went out with my dad but they comfort me now.

I'm walking down a clearly worn path, guessing that it was probably a well known hiking trail when that was still a luxury. I come up to a fork and both look equally used, when I notice a smaller, wilder one. I turn down it and walk for about 50 meters when I see it: a cabin.

There's moss growing up the side of it and one of the windows is busted. It's not all that large but it would definitely be big enough for the two of us. I slip the knife out from my boot and cautiously make my way over to the broken glass. I peer in but its empty, save for a few cans on a table shoved off into the corner. There's no furniture, and while that disappoints me I am also relived that no one lives here. I slip inside.

The floor boards are coated in a thin layer of dust and there's a rotten log in one corner of the ceiling but other than that it seems pretty intact. I find a towel in the closet and throw it on the ground, smearing it through the dust with my boot. I'm halfway through when the door bursts open.

"What the hell!" His cross bow is out and ready but I more cautious of the expression on his face. "Calm down, I'm fine." I pick up the towel and brush past him to shake it off outside.

"No! I ain't just gunna calm down! A walker coulda got ya!" He follows me closely.

"Daryl, I'm okay. Just relax for once."

"Relax? You want me to relax? I can't relax when yer bein' so god damn careless! Yer selfish and ya don't think about how yer actions affect other people. Ya may want to die and risk yer life but did ya ever stop and think 'bout what yer doin' to me? Ya scare the fuckin' shit out of me! One minute yer sittin' by my side at the fire and the next yer leanin' over a god damn cliff!"

I'm startled at his outburst. This is definitely the most he's ever said at any given moment to me. His eyes blaze with anger and for the first time I'm actually scared of him.

"I'm not your god damn responsibility! I'm not some child you need to look after!"

"I wouldn't treat ya like that if ya stopped actin' like one all the damn time! How 'bout ya just make my life a lil easier and stop bein' so fuckin' senseless!"

"For someone that really tries hard at surviving, you don't seem to enjoy your life all that much. So please, explain to me why living this type of life is the answer?"

Before I even know what's happening, I'm pinned to the ground and his body is straddled above mine. I feel a cool, smooth blade against my neck. "Ya really want to die, is that what ya really want?" He presses it closer to my skin and I feel a small amount of blood break through. I'm breathing heavily though the weight of him atop of me makes it hard to take in air.

"Just get it over with already!" I yell but he doesn't move, he's just staring at me.

"Why?" He whispers. "Why do ya want to die so bad?"

He waits. My eyes start welling and I turn my head to the side, not wanting him to see my tears. As I do so the knife cuts a thin line across my neck and I wince in pain. Daryl throws the knife over to the side but doesn't let me up. "Why?"

But I'm not with Daryl anymore and I see her turning again. Once so electric and bright, I can watch her life flickering in and out as her chest rises and falls sporadically and I can't do anything to stop it. Her hands are bound to the table and mine are pressed up to the glass that separates us. Her body goes still and I stand there, waiting. Waiting for what the doctors said would happen. Only one of them is in the room, covered head to foot in a hazard suit. And then she's sitting up and he jams a knife right through her brain.

And I see them swaying in the living room. They're mindlessly floating around the downstairs of our house. I'm standing at the back door and lean my head against it. I know what I have to do.

He shakes me back to him."It's my fault, okay? It's my fault they're all dead!" I'm shoving at his hands and trying to push him off of me but he's too strong. Instead I half heartily punch him in the shoulder while I choke out the words. "If I hadn't of left- If I had noticed sooner- my parents and Nilaya, they wouldn't be dead. It's my fault, I deserve to die too!"

The sobs rake through me and he finally releases my upper body from his grip. He stands up slowly and looks down at me solemnly. He opens his mouth to say something but then shuts it. I'm still laying there in the dirt, heaving.

"I'll be back later. I'm gunna go pack up the camp."

I don't know how long I lay there but eventually I make my way over to the steps that lead to the small porch on the front side of the cabin.

Just as the sun has begun to set, Daryl comes out of the trees lugging our bags with him. He doesn't say anything to me as he glances in my direction and continues straight inside. I hear him open up a can of whatever had been left on that table and he unpacks our sleeping bags. My fingers are numb, I reluctantly go in.

He is propped up against the wall with his legs stretch out on his bag. I unzip my own and unlace my boots before climbing inside of it. I roll on to my side so I don't have to look at him.

"I lost a little girl," He says. "Sophia. She was Carol's lil girl. We were out on the highway and a herd came through. Everyone ducked under cars but one found 'er and she took off into the woods. Rick, the sheriff of our group, he took off after 'er but they got separated. I went out almost every damn day lookin' for 'er."

I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. "I even fell down a god damn cliff just to get 'er stupid ass doll," he laughs bitterly but he sounds more like he wants to cry, "Shot myself with an arrow too."

"Did you ever find her?"

"Yeah."

I raise an eyebrow at him.

"In a barn with a dozen other walkers."

I nod slightly.

"Sometimes I think I'm gunna wake up back at the campsite and see 'er runnin' round with Carl and huggin' 'er mom."

I knew what he meant. It was like waiting to be picked up at the airport by someone. They were supposed to be there at 6 o'clock but its 9:13 and they still haven't showed. But you wait around anyway because they said they'd be there and you believed them. And every car starts to look like theirs and all the people passing by you start to look like them too and eventually you have to accept that they aren't coming. They aren't ever coming.

But accepting that they weren't going to be around was like letting go and letting go felt selfish. It was like telling their memory that they didn't matter anymore and you would be better off without them. Whenever I tried to push back Nilaya's or my parents' faces, I felt worse than the monster I watched them become.

I turn over on my side so that I face him. He brushes his dark brown hair out of his eyes. They look lifeless and tired.

I reach out my hand across the distance to him but he does not take it. He stares at it for a moment before sighing and rolling over. My fingers brake back into my palm and I tuck it under my head.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl is a few shelves over rummaging through whatever is left in the hunting store. He finds a few arrows, two knives, and a small canteen.

I'm riffling through the discarded clothing in the aisles that people must have dropped on their way out. I pick up a pair of dark green cargo pants and quickly thank whoever dropped them. My own clothes have become so filthy they are a permanent dark brown color. I haven't had a truly clean pair of pants in over four months.

This is only the third time we've gone on a run, the first being at the start of winter when we needed heavier jackets and the second being just the other week. I pick up a flannel, smiling at the sleeves. God forbid Daryl doesn't tear them off this time. Not that I minded much.

He saunters over to me obviously proud of his finds and plops down in a lawn chair.

"Here," I throw the shirt at him without looking up and continue searching for a new shirt.

"There any pants in there?"

"Unless you wear an extra small, no."

He grunts and unbuttons the dusty orange shirt he has on and throws it to the floor. The new shirt looks odd on him since the red is so bright and clean against his dirty undershirt and skin. I realize I'm starring and quickly turn back to the cart of random items. He pushes out of the seat and walks a few rows over searching through another pile.

He comes up with dark camouflage pants and shakes his head at the _fools who can't hunt without 'em_. I change into my own finds and sigh at the soft cotton shirt I'm now wearing. I pick up our old clothes and shove them in my bag and we head back to the cabin.

Daryl desperately wants to get back to his group but he is not stupid. He knows that with the winter weather wandering out in the cold isn't much of an option. He's decided that we'll wait out the season here in the cabin. About a week ago, he found a car on the highway a few miles out while he was hunting. It had just enough gas to get to this town where he siphoned more and grabbed as many cans of food as he could find. I convinced him to come back today so we could get new clothes, and blankets. The cabin may be warmer now that he boarded up the window, but the nights were still freezing.

When we get back to the cabin, Daryl goes off to hunt for some meat to eat with our canned beans. While he is gone I stock away our finds in the closet and lay out the blankets on our beds. I wait for him outside by the warm fire with a blue sleeping bag wrapped around me. After he is back, he tells me to find a few long sticks while he cleans the meat.

The charred flesh used to make me gag but now my stomach rumbles with anticipation. He hands me a stick with an entire squirrel stuck on it.

"Oh good, you got me my favorite."

"Shut up an' eat it." He laughs.

I scrape at the sides of my bean can, frowning when I realize there is no more. Daryl shoves some of his food to me but I shake my head.

"Take it."

The meat is cold now but I don't mind it. He tells me that tonight he will go hunting and try to find some bigger game. But until then he sits with me at the fire. I open up the blanket and offer him the spot beside me. Though he is reluctant, and the proximity seems to pain him, the cold wins out and he settles next to me. As his arm brushes mine I feel a rush.

"You know, I'm not Sophia. It's okay if you can't save me." I whisper.

I'm leaning back on the log behind us. I can see a cluster of stars where the trees don't fan out. The crackling and warmth of the fire almost have me asleep, until he speaks.

"I don't look at ya like that anymore." He shakes his head and throws a twig into the fire.

"How do you look at me then?"

His jaw clenches and he closes his eyes briefly before looking down at me. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Take this somewhere it shouldn't go."

"Maybe when I'm older right?" I joke, but I don't think the sound of my laughter quite reaches his ears. My smile falters and I don't say anything else as I look back up to the sky.

"Maybe 'fore all this happened, but not now. I look at ya and I don't feel anythin'."

He gets up then and I lose his body in the trees behind us. When he is gone and I can no longer see him that is when I finally let myself admit what I feel the most.

I am down at the river that's only a short walk from the cabin. There is a section nearest the bank that sort of pools around and doesn't rush about like the rest of it. It's where we bathe, though sometimes we go without being clean to keep warm. Normally Daryl comes by himself, though he doesn't let me go out alone. I'd like to think he's protecting me from walkers and not still afraid I'll drown myself.

"What?" He fidgets with the buttons on his new flannel

"Nothing," I say with another laugh, "You've just got this big bad badass thing goin' on but you're too self conscious to take off your shirt?"

He glares at me and unbuttons it quickly before throwing it into the water. I start to rub the material together as fast as possible, mainly because the water is freezing and I want out, regardless of how clean it will make me. I'm so focused on the material that I almost miss the deep, serrated lines that run down his skin before he turns back towards me. He must know I've seen them when he looks at me.

His shirt hangs limply in my hands and the water sways around my torso. I'm staring blankly at him.

The scars looked jagged and puffed up from his skin. They were purple in color, like a bad bruise that was never allowed to heal. He holds my gaze as he wades into the water, sucking in breath with shock at the temperature.

"How'd you get those?" I whisper.

"Why should I tell ya everythin' 'bout me?" he eyes me. "Doesn't matter anyway."

"I want to know," I say.

"Be a waste of time."

Time skips. I lay his shirt up over a rock and start on my jeans. I'm starting to shake.

"I wouldn't mind wastin' my time on you."

He doesn't say anything for a few moments and I expect him to drop the subject entirely. "Mamma beat me. Daddy beat me. Hell, even my brother beat me – _it'll make ya tough as shit_ – but like I said, don't matter." He shakes his head of the thoughts and kicks backwards, sending himself to float on his back. I try not to pay attention to the way the droplets run off his chest, over his tattoos and back into the water. His hands skim over his face to wash away the dirt and I find myself blushing at the thought of combing my hands through his wet hair.

My skin starts to hurt so I make my way back to the bank. The cold air clings to the sheen that drips down my body and I hurry to grab the dry clothes I had brought down with me. Though, as I head for the small fire Daryl had started earlier, I hear a branch snap. There are three walkers limping their way around the flames, blocking the path to where both our knives and his cross bow sit.

"Daryl," I hiss.

"What?" I jerk my head at the three rotting bodies and back up to the edge of the water. Suddenly, he is standing next to me and throwing clothes on, looking in all directions.

"That way," he points and moves along the water's edge to the rock wall that stretches high. I see the area he wants us to climb, so that we avoid the walkers altogether and can double back to grab our weapons.

I'm not as experienced as he is with crawling up rocks and scaling hill sides but I manage to keep up. I find notches in the rockery that my fingers grasp tightly. Daryl has reached the top and waits patiently for me to get closer before offering me a hand. When I am almost close enough, I reach out to a protruding rock. At first it seems to bare my weight but when my left hand reaches up to Daryl it gives way, instinctively I lean forward in hopes of grabbing anything to save me from falling but my head cracks against a jagged rock and I feel the warm liquid spread on my face almost instantly.

For a moment I am weightless. My body is parallel with the earth and the landing Daryl is standing on passes from view as I fall.

I tumble down into the ice-lined waters, thankfully hitting the drop off where it's the deepest but the landing in unforgiving and I feel as though I have hit concrete. My muscles contract instantly and my lungs exhale all my breath. The water I am in shifts around slowly, unaffected by the strong current that drags the rest of the water away but I am being pushed and pulled slowly to the flow. My limbs are freezing over and I can't get my arms to stabilize me. My breathing becomes chaotic and uncontrollable. I cannot calm down.

I hear Daryl shouting but the roar of the river slowly drowns him out until it's the only thing I hear. Mist from where the water clashes with rock, connect against my face like tiny icicles, piercing and sharp.

My back slams against a boulder and something loosens in my spine. A cold, though different from the water, seeps through me. But then in a moment it is gone and my arms slip around the rock, trying to grip on. I am leaning on it, sucking in oxygen mixed with water. I'm choking now and I can't hold on. I slip away into the raging river. I hear Daryl again, he must be closer. I see a branch jutting out from the dark liquid and this time I hold tight. I am only a few feet from the side. The edges of my vision go black.

There is always this romantic notion that in the few moments before you die, the world would slow down just enough that you'd have time to replay every frame of your life. I found that this sentiment was very untrue. As I hold on to the branch that spits out from the embankment I can only concentrate on the icy water that has soaked me to the bones and the hollowness that is filling my lungs.

Mostly, though, I keep thinking of how easy it would be to just let go of the branch and be swept away with the river. This is what I had wanted wasn't it? A part of me wants to: she says _please. _But a different, louder part of me tells me to hold on. Though that may be Daryl's voice I am hearing. One hand slips from the branch.

"East, hold on!" He is climbing down the muddy bank trying to get closer to me.

"I can't!" I shout. "I can't."

The person I was two months ago wouldn't have hesitated to let the last hand slip but I was unsure if I was still that girl. I think about her now, the one lying in that field, how broken and alone she was. I think about her being dragged along through the forest because she couldn't bother to try herself. And again, when she has a knife pressed to her throat, she still does not fight. Most of the time she is still here, begging me to stop living but then other times, like this one, there is someone else, begging for me to go on and fight.

Daryl is now a few feet from me, but slightly down stream, trying to stretch as far as he can to reach for my hand. We lock eyes. He is close enough for me to grab hold of if I let go and surge with all my effort. For a moment I consider simply letting go.

Though my clothes are soaked with water, it is not what weighs me down. At first, I think it is Nilaya and my parents who I am trying to keep afloat even though I am not strong enough to hold us all above.

But I realize someone even heavier is weighing me down. She is refusing to breathe. She is refusing to hold on. She clings to my legs and wraps around my torso, dragging me under. But I see a man trying with everything he has to keep her alive even though she does not deserve to be saved. So instead I leap at his hand and claw at it with every ounce of energy left in me and that broken part of me, the one that didn't have any hope at all, she washes away from me; the rapids swept her away and drowned her in its rage. I am not sad to see her go.

When Daryl yanks me from the water onto the frosted dirt, I feel like he has breathed sweet, warm air into my lungs, though all he does is lie beside me and clutch my hand. I let him save me. But not the girl he has spent countless hours watching over. No, I am not that girl anymore. I do not want to die. I want to live.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Def want to just say my thoughts go out to anyone affected by the Boston bombings and all the other crazy shit that's happening there.**

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I'm propped up on his shoulder and he pushes me up towards the sky but the side of the rock wall crumbles against my fingers. My visions blurs at the movement.

"Daryl, I can't." I feel like I'm going to puke as I slide off of him and sink to the ground. Dust kicks up and sticks against my sweaty skin.

"Easton," he pulls my face between his hands and looks straight into my eyes but he is blurry, "Easton, ya have to fight, okay? Don't go back to that girl. Get up." And he is lifting me again. I find notches in the rocks and stick the tips of my boots in them. He grunts as he shoves me and my palms connect with the smooth surface of the landing.

As I pull myself up, his hands grip my heels and push me harder. I am safe.

"Good?"

"Good." I call out. I peer over the edge at him and lay my cheek on the cold stone. I am too hot. Unnaturally hot.

"Lay up against the wall so ya don't roll off."

I roll over against the barrier but now it is dark and I can't hear him. I stay in the dark.

Daryl holds her hands and they twirl out in the high grass. It is summer time and they are both tan from the sun and even darker with dirt. Their heads are dripping with crystal water from just swimming in the river. She is singing and twirls and twirls and twirls. Her voice is sweeter than the birds and her hair melts with the sunlight. _Ring-a-round a Rosie, A pocket full of posies,_ they walk through the door hand in hand, she only comes up to his ribs. _Ashes! Ashes!_ But in the shadows of the room her skin is rotten and chunks of it are missing. _We all fall down. _A beautiful butterfly in sunlight but a dull, damaged moth in the dark.

Daryl looks down at her in shock and she cocks her head to the side in question, touching her face gently. She peels back her cheek and stares at the layer of flesh in her tiny hand. She slowly backs up into the wall. Now she is screaming, standing there ripping apart her vocal cords with a shrilling cry.

I reach out to grab her arm but she dissipates and my face is resting against dark flannel. Daryl cradles me in his arms. The sun is shining above him and it blinds me. It spills down his hair and for a moment he has a halo.

Though the rays are warm I shake violently. My hair is drenched with sweat.

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"If I end up dying, just know that you did it."

"Did what?" He slows down, and I feel us stop moving.

"Saved me. I finally feel like I'm worth saving." I smile weakly at him. I am tired.

"Yer not dyin.'"

Everything else seems too foggy and I hear a muffled slam from somewhere near us. Daryl is saying to open the back door. As he lays me down onto the tan leather and throws a wool blanket over me, I see another man behind him. He is young, like me, but with dark black hair covered by a baseball cap. I want to ask who he is but the dark is slowly coming back and they are gone.

I am wearing white. The silk falls to the ground kissing my feet and blades of grass brush its hem gently in the breeze. I am back in the field but Daryl is not here. Instead, when I turn I see Nilaya. She too is wearing white and I realize this is not a wedding dress. Her long, elegant wings are unfurled behind her. She is spinning a clover between her thumb and pointer finger. She looks up at me and smiles. The clover is discarded to the ground.

She takes a lock of my hair and twirls it around her finger, a pale swirl mixed with tanned skin. She smiles down at me, "It's been awhile."

"What's happening?"

"Do you remember this?"

I see myself lying just in front of us singing to the walker that is ambling its way toward my body. I remember.

"What are we doing here?" She lets go of my hair and looks over at the walker.

"I was scared that day."

"So was I." I whisper.

"I couldn't do anything to help you. I was hurting you." She looks back at me and there are tears hovering in her eyes.

"No," she backs away from me. "You weren't hurting me."

"I was. I was breaking you from the inside out."

"You were like my sister, Nilaya. I didn't know what to do on my own."

Daryl breaks through the trees and an arrow zips past us to the walker. He is leaning over my body now. Nilaya smiles over at me. "You aren't on your own." She pauses. "You have to let me go. You can't keep blaming yourself for what happened."

"But I-" She grabs my chin roughly and gives me a stern look.

"Let go. If you want to survive you have to let it go." Daryl is pulling my body up from the ground and we run. There are dozens of walkers swarming around us but they pay no attention, they want the flesh being pulsed with life and blood.

"But I don't want to forget you." I cry.

"Don't forget," she shakes her head. The long braid of her hair floats with it. "Just forgive."

She turns then and loosens her wings. My hand goes to my back but there are none there. I look back at Daryl's retreating figure, adorned with feathery stitches. He glides between trees as she soars up to the sky. I let them go.

My head is on a pillow damp with sweat, the wool blanket from the car is draped over me but I see that I have on clean clothes. The lantern throws off a dim glow to the walls but it's still harsh to my eyes.

"Good evenin,'" I startle at the man's voice from not having seen him standing in the corner of the room. He walks over to me with a pitcher and bowl, a small hand cloth thrown over his shoulder. As he approaches the bed I instinctively shrink into the corner. "I'm not gunna hurt you, names Hershel. Daryl brought you to me." He sets down the items on the table and places his hands up in surrender before lowering down in the chair next to the cot.

"Where's Daryl?" I smooth the blanket out around me. Hershel is the vet and the one who owned the farm. He reminds me of my grandfather.

"He's hunting at the moment."

"Practically had to lock him outside to leave us alone," a woman with close cropped hair pipes in as she enters the room. She comes baring food. Her eyes are kind. "I'm Carol." _Carol. Sophia._

She sits down next to me on the bed and offers me the bowl. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"About two days, give or take." She says. "You woke up every now and then. Daryl said you've been pretty out of it for the week though. What are the chances he would run into Glenn?" She takes a faraway look on her face.

"I don't remember anything." I shake my head as I lift the spoon up to my mouth. It's salty and lukewarm but fills my growling stomach. "Slow," Hershel says as he reaches out a hand to stop me. "Don't make yourself sicker than you are. Caught a nasty fever didn't you?"

"Must have been from the river." I offer.

"Daryl told us," Carol smiles again. She is even gentler than Daryl described her.

Hershel tells me to take the medicine he has laid out on the table after I am done eating and excuses himself to go have his own meal. Carol offers to stay with me until I am done and I gladly take the offer, though I feel somewhat intimidated being around one of Daryl's closer friends. _More than friends?_

"Where are we?" I ask.

"A church, pretty close to Florida actually. We found it on accident, seems to be going around," she leans back against the wall and tucks her heels up under her. "It's been good to us though, been here for a couple months. Lots of space, got a pretty sturdy fence built around the land, and most of all it keeps us warm." I nod in agreement.

We small talk while I finish my soup. I like Carol. She's even more motherly than I expected. I would give anything to be sitting here with my own mother.

"You and Daryl, you're pretty close, yeah?" I ask her sheepishly.

She folds her hands in her lap and leans her head against the white walls. "I assume you know about Sophia," I nod, "He helped me when I really needed him. Imagine he might have done the same for you. I've asked, you know, about what you guys had gone through out there on your own but he won't really talk about it. Got this uncomfortable look in his eyes when Hershel asked about the river, you're like a secret he's keeping from the rest of us."

"It wasn't anything really, I fell when were runnin' from some walkers."

"You can tell me all about it tomorrow. He's worried about you, might wanna go check in with him. Hershel hasn't let him see you. He was causing too much ruckus. I think he carried your bags in with him, though."

"In where?"

"The room we were savin' for him." She gets up and grabs the empty bowl.

"You guys never gave up on him did you?"

"Would you?" She smiles again and turns toward the door.

"I don't- if this is out of line but-"

Carols laugh chimes as she swats the air with her hand. "Don't. We're just friends. No need to worry about all that."

"Sorry." My face is hot with embarrassment. She says goodnight and tells me I can meet everyone else in the morning. I lie on the cot for a few more hours, willing the room to slow down from spinning.

I'm pacing up and down the hall, debating on whether or not to join Daryl in his room. I lightly hold the molding along the wall for balance. I am still light headed and nauseas but the medicine I took has helped.

Though there wasn't an obvious invitation to join him, would he turn me away? Carol had implied that I should stay in his room, even saying he took my things in with him, but did the others presume I would too? I would take the cot for another night but I know that eventually someone else will need it and I would be faced with the exact dilemma I am now in. Daryl's room? Or somewhere among the pews?

"What're ya doin?"

He had kicked the door open with his foot and was sitting just inside the room. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

I stop in front of him but I don't say anything. I see two beds made up on the floor with an empty whiskey bottle discarded in the corner. They are a generous distance away from each other but still within an arm's length. It reminds me of the cabin. Relief washes over me.

I step over his long, outstretched legs and find my place on the black sleeping bag. The covers warm me up and I am thankful for this shelter. There aren't rotted holes in the ceiling this time.

"It's my- our- comin' home present." He gestures to the bottle before talking another gulp. "Thought I'd wait 'till ya were better. Hershel told me ya were up."

"I can see you were intent on sharing," I laugh. "What're you tryin' do, drown your sorrows?"

"Ain't no sorrows left in me, Sunshine. All I've got are my demons. "

"Good luck tryin' drown those. Bastards are great at swimmin'." I reach out and grab the glass bottle from his hand and take a generous swig. It burns all the way down.

He is looking at me differently. I don't know if it is the booze or just because he is happy to be back with his group but he has lost the dark that normally settled in his eyes. I can't decipher him and the liquor isn't making it any easier. I'd never understand Daryl Dixon.

"You 'bout as far from a demon as heaven itself, don't fron' with me." His head lulls back against the wall and he smiles crookedly. I put the bottle down on the other side of me, afraid that if he has any more he'd say something he didn't mean; afraid that if I took another sip that I'd believe him. I'm still shaky and accidently knock it over but there's so little left it doesn't spill. I stare at it for a moment, so I don't have to look back at him. I should get up and leave him, let him sober up, but I feel terribly lonely.

Plus, sitting there, having him look at me the way he was, started to awaken something in me I thought had died along with the world. In the past few months I had given up. I hadn't wanted a damn thing but to die.

But I push the want away. I can't shake the feeling that somehow I would ruin him. I knew he was saving me; I just hoped I wasn't slowly killing him.

He pushes off the wall and crawls over to the other bag. He tugs at his boots and slips off his vest. To my surprise he starts stripping off his shirt that clings to him with a slight layer of sweat. It gets tossed across the room. My chest contracts with the site of his lean torso and I turn my attention to the lantern that is between us. He gets inside the bag and pushes the light higher by his head, exposing my face to his.

"Ya like it here?"

"It's not my dream house," I smile over at him. "But I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else tonight."

"Ain't no picket fence if that's what ya wantin.'"

"Yeah, somethin' like that: Yellow house, white shutters with a matchin' fence, and kids runnin' 'round the front yard chasin' after a goddamn golden retriever." I suddenly felt nostalgic for a life I had never even lived.

"I wish ya could have that. I wish ya could have everythin' in the whole fuckin' world."

I look over at him then, unsure of why he said that. His eyes are closed though, with his head nestled in his arms.

"You're really drunk right now aren't you?"

"Shit faced." He grins.

"So you probably won't remember this in the mornin'? He groans in response.

"What about you?"

He opens one eye, "what 'bout me?"

"You never wanted to get married or anythin'?"

"Hell no," he pauses before opening both eyes to look at me properly, "I guess I just never met a girl I wanted to marry."

I turn my gaze up above his head, "Well who knows, maybe love isn't so far gone after all."

"Don't think it's 'bout love no more. I think you find someone that's as equally fucked in the head and call it good."

"What a romantic," my laugh cuts into the stillness of the church.

"Don't need none of that sentimental bullshit." His laugh mixes with mine. It's a pleasant sound.

After awhile I think he's fallen asleep. "Sing to me?" His voice is soft and his southern drawl hitches.

"What?" I blink.

"Sing to me." This Daryl is different, unguarded. I like him. But I found that I didn't mind the closed off version of him either.

More surprising than anything, he reaches out his hand across the wooden floor. Slowly I trace my finger tips to his forearm where I finally rest them. His hand grips my arm like I'll run off and disappear. It reminds me of my dream: how he slipped away in the forest and disappeared. I sing us to sleep.

I wanna live life and never be cruel

And I wanna live life and be good to you

And I wanna fly and never come down

And live my life and have friends around

We never change, do we? No, no

We never learn, do we?

So I wanna live in a wooden house

Oh, and I don't have a soul to save

Yes and I sin every single day

We never change, do we?

We never learn, do we?

So I wanna live in a wooden house

Where making more friends would be easy

I wanna live where the sun comes out


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: For the most part I finished editing minor errors in the first five chapters (no big plot line changes or anything but a few minor things I guess) but let me know if you see anything that def needs fixing. Enjoy!**

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I was supposed to be ready to leave twenty minutes ago. But after I had raked a brush through my tangled hair, I was struck by the reflection I saw in the mirror.

I stare at the glass surface. Its frame is chipped, cheap gold and inside its perimeter stands a stranger. Though, it is more like seeing two people at once. I can see a new, tougher version of myself. With darker skin, cross hashed with small scars, and slight protruding bones where flesh used to curve appreciatively. The shell of me seems impenetrable. Behind the face is where the other person lives with eyes too soft to match the outside. My rough exterior has sunk its roots down beneath the skin and has left no room for the other. There is not enough space for myself inside of me.

I feel as if I'll never stop changing. It wasn't that long ago that I had been another person entirely, before Daryl I was a broken version of that, and up until the river I was an unstable replica of her. There was also a yesterday me and the me twenty minutes ago. But they were never the same person. I wonder who I will be by tomorrow. I wonder if I will like her.

"You ready?" I flinch as Glenn leans against the door frame, arms crossed and baseball cap on.

"Of course, where's Maggie?"

"Already in the car."

He turns to leave and I follow him. We cut through the main room of the Church: there are dozens of pews shoved off to the right of me and almost everyone sits crowded around, talking and eating. Judith cries out to Beth, unhappy of the diluted formula she has been given. Carol shakes her head when Beth asks if there's enough for a real bottle. Carl is talking to his father but looks dejected by the words he is hearing. Tyreese is lying down with his sister sitting close by. She wrings her hands and gives him a brave smile. He has been sick for the past two weeks and Hershel is worried for him. Daryl is not here.

We are a garden full of wilted flowers that refuse to die.

But there will come a time when we are all dead. No exceptions, not even for the survivors we claim to be now. The only thing left will be the walkers and without us, they too will die. And though I don't wish for it to happen anytime soon, I do hope that it does. I want the world to finally feel as vacant and alone as I do. Maybe then that is when salvation will come.

When we exit the church that is when I see Daryl. He is sitting underneath a tree, with his head leaned back and his eyes drooped shut. It has only been a season with him but I feel like I have known him longer and that still is not enough. The constant attention that I long from him has started to frighten me. It is unannounced most times and attacks with sudden greed. The loneliness I had felt before him no longer breaks at my bones. It has evolved into an unrelenting hunger that I had hoped would subside with weeks and days of him, but it only growls louder. And I do not know if I can give it more. I cannot be greedy with what I take from him.

His disapproval was very vocal when Glenn and Maggie asked if I would come along on the run.

We need supplies: baby formula, more medicine, canned food. The usual. I would be hesitant myself if it wasn't my own fault that we needed the items. Glenn hadn't been able to finish the run when he found Daryl and I, and what little medicine he had picked up, I had used. I figured it was my time to finally pull my weight.

I've found myself spending most of my time with Maggie or Glenn, considering we're around the same age. It's nice to feel somewhat normal again. Sometimes when things have been going well, I forget where we are and imagine that we are sitting out on the quad between classes. I don't see much of Daryl during the day, he is often out hunting, though sometimes he lets me come, or he is running around with Rick doing whatever needs be. Most of our conversations are at night when we are overcome with exhaustion but I don't mind that much.

In the end, he told me to be careful and lent me his gun. I figured that was the best goodbye I could ask from him.

Glenn is driving the SUV and Maggie is perched in the passenger seat. Their hands are laced together and the sun hits her ring, ricocheting light around the cab of the car.

"When'd you propose to her?" I see him smile in the rearview mirror and he brings their hands up to his lips.

"Two months ago."

Maggie turns back to face me, "wasn't much of a proposal though," she laughs. "I'm surprised I even got a ring."

"I almost didn't do it," Glenn says never taking his eyes off the road.

"What changed your mind?" I lean my chin on the back of his seat.

"I guess I was just scared, you know? That it could be my last day and I might be dead tomorrow. I needed her to know that this isn't just an end of the world thing, it's a forever thing. You can't wait for the right time anymore because it won't ever happen." It makes me think of Daryl.

"Well, congratulations," I offer weakly. Maggie smiles at me and leans her head back onto the seat.

"It's nice having some things that remind you of your old life isn't it?" She asks.

I tell her it is. Glenn says he is the luckiest man alive, and she blushes. They are both very lucky and I am glad that they know it. They were lucky that the world had let them find each other, though the thought of it being for only a short while saddens me. That's why I couldn't force myself to confront Daryl about my feelings for him; happiness was too fragile. I was afraid that the moment I let myself indulge in it, the world would cruelly take it away. Like a cancer patient being told they were in remission and then dying in a car accident on the way home.

"Think you'll ever get one from Daryl?" Glenn snorts at Maggie's question.

I tell Maggie I don't know what she is talking about. I picture him back at the tree, peaceful and carefree. The image clutches to me in desperation as if in the few hours I'll be away from him, I'll forget his face. That idea is preposterous though, I could never forget him.

The SUV rolls through the parking lot's pavement and Glenn parks us a dozen yards away from the entrance. There are a few walkers in the lot but only a couple close enough to be a problem. He jumps out of the car and quickly takes care of the two standing near the front. Maggie and I grab our back packs and head through the manual doors, the windows are smeared with blood. The lack of natural sun and the unpowered lights make the store pitch black inside. Maggie hands me the second flashlight and clicks her own on. The aisles are so bare you can mostly see the entire way down the store through empty shelves. The check stands are smashed in and displays are knocked over on the ground. We're only a few steps in when Maggie shushes us. Pointing her flashlight around, it stops on a body hanging from lower rafters above the customer service station.

The closer we get, the louder its moaning gets. Its arms flail about trying to reach us. The walker is dressed in a white collared shirt with the tie loosened and dark grey slacks. The bottoms are stained red and shreds of skin hang where his shins and feet should be. The exposed skin is raw and chewed away. Though the walker's upper half is in better condition, his skin is leathery and dry. He chomps away at the air.

"I don't understand," I say turning to them. "How is it a walker?"

"You don't know?" Glenn looks at Maggie with shock.

"Know what?" The walker's body sways slightly.

He tells me about the Doctor. How the group's camp site got overrun and they had to leave, eventually ending up at the CDC where some doctor was holed up inside.

"He told Rick we're all infected. Only way to die is the head." Maggie pushes the walker's feet and it snarls. Glenn climbs up high enough to stab it in the side of its brain. I stare back at them in disbelief but the truth is hanging right in front of me. There lives a monster in all of us.

We split up to cover the department store and grab the things we need. I head to the pharmacy though most of it is wiped clean. When I am done there I find my way to the stock room, hoping there will be leftovers, but again most of it is gone. I find it odd that there are no walkers inside the store. Maggie and Glenn are still not back at the isle where we decided to meet back up so I try one last place, the upstairs break room. The main room has over turned tables and again there is blood smeared along the windows. A couple of work aprons are scattered around the floor. I find some coats in the opened lockers that I stuff in my bag and I continue down the hall.

There are a dozen small offices and a large meeting room. I skip over the first few doors and head for the back of the area. 'Manager' is written in large, silver letters on the last one and I push it open. There are a few stray candy bars and packs of gum stuffed in the back of the desk drawer but nothing important. On the desk is a smashed picture frame. The cracked glass distorts the shot of three young boys, a woman with brown curly hair, and a man with his arm around her. He is the man from the customer service station.

I sit in the black office chair and its plastic creaks under my weight. There is a fine layer of dust covering the oak wood and a few papers are stacked neatly on the edge. I look through them in an attempt to distract myself from acknowledging that the walker is also the man who sat here. My eyes flick back to him and their smiling faces. I can feel myself unhinging but I cannot stop from wrecking my composure. He is another reminder that we cannot escape.

I collapse my head onto the table, willing myself to calm down and breathe. He is dead. His family is probably dead. Everyone is on their way to dying. It makes me second guess what I am doing. For a few minutes I let my mind revert back to before Daryl, what's the point in living if this is everyone's fate? You can't fight what's coming. There lives a monster in all of us. I hear footsteps in the hall and try to collect myself before Maggie or Glenn finds me here.

But when I look up a walker wades past the door and thankfully continues by. And then another. I shakily roll the chair back and walk my way to the door. Another walker stumbles by. I chance a look into the hallway to the other end that leads back downstairs. It is full of bodies. I step back inside and slowly shut the door. I exhale slowly as the latch clicks. By now my hands are slick with sweat and my heart is pounding so hard they'll surely hear it. With my back pressed against the door I look around the room frantically. There is a decent sized shelf and then the desk but those are my only options to barricade the door with. I push the desk across the grey carpet. When it connects with the door a walker simultaneously thumps against it. Quickly I drag the shelf over and secure it as well. By now I feel their bodies beating into the door. I step back and stare at the only thing separating myself and the dozens of walkers.

I run over to the small window but there is no latch or way to open it. I pick up the chair and remove the lower half. Turning toward the window I swing hard and it clashes against it. But it does not break. I didn't expect it too. My breathing accelerates when I realize I am trapped.

Maggie and Glenn will be unable to see me since I am on the opposite side of the building from the SUV if I could even get their attention from this small window. Without much purpose I walk back to the door where there is still loud thumping. I slide down the shelf and tuck my legs up beneath my chin. Their constant beating knocks me away from the shelf in rhythm. I do not cry at first but at some point my cheeks are covered in salty film.

_It could be my last day and I might be dead tomorrow… you can't wait for the right time anymore because it won't ever happen._


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Sorry about the late post. I don't know if I like this chapter or not lol I think it's why it took so long.**

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It may have only been two minutes since I was last awake or it could have been hours. I am lying back on the dingy carpet with my feet to the door. A walker is pawing at the wood that acts as a barrier between us. My eyes are heavy with sleep and paralysis has found my limbs. The empty feeling is back; it feels like I am being torn open, ribcage prying skyward. But at the same time, I feel as if I am closing down on myself and impaling slowly. Maybe it was a little of both. How is it possible to feel richly whole one moment and side scraped empty the next?

It has been several hours since I locked myself in the room. The moon hangs bright in the black sky and taunts me with its freedom. The parking lot has a milky glow and there are several walkers moving about.

The calmness I feel should probably be alarming in my situation but at some point during the night, fear had become my oxygen. And now I find that I can breathe it quite regularly.

Daryl was right. I should not have come. Even the fleeting, simple thought of him shakes me awake. I need to get back to him.

I stand up and shake the numbness from my arms. I need a plan. The window was out, and judging from the moaning, so was the door. That only left the small air vent in the corner of the room. I wasn't quite sure I could even fit through it and the only way to get high enough would be to stand on the desk, removing the only significant weight holding the door shut. I search through its drawers and the only semi weapon is a silver pen. I grab one of the pennies that lines the bottom most drawer and put it in my pocket.

Standing in front of the desk, I lean my palms flat against the top and take a deep breath. I will have to be fast. Before I can back out I grip the table top and yank it backwards in the direction of the vent. The shelf now thuds back into the door and the scratching becomes more desperate. When it's in the right position I climb atop of it and try to pry the screws from the vent corners. When it's loose, I fling it to the floor. The shelf slides down the door and cracks against the floor. I shove the pen up inside the air duct and grip the edges of it trying to pull myself up. I get about half way when a body slams full force into the door startling me. I lose my grip and drop back down to the table. This time I buck my body upwards and kick my legs, allowing my elbows to rest on the vents bottom and pull myself up and in. I don't wait to see if the walkers get into the room.

The vent is tight and I have to keep my arms below my body tucked into my sides. The skin of my arms slides along the metal but they are slick with sweat and glide easily. I crawl for several minutes trying to put as much distance between me and the room. When I get to the fourth vent I look between the slats and see the break room. The stairs should be just in front of me that lead back down to the store. I pop the covering off and stick my head out of the duct to look around the room. There are two walkers standing outside of the door above the stairs and a few are down the hallway. Another is standing just below me but hasn't realized I'm above him.

I scoot over the opening and let the top half of my body hang. One arm is holding on so that I don't fall out and my legs brace the inside of the duct. My right arm sways with the pen clasped in my hand. The walker staggers slightly and I jam the pen right through the top of his head. I thought the pen would do enough damage to the brain. I was wrong. The walker jerks its head, and its arm flies up to mine gripping onto my wrist. I am yanked from the ceiling. My leg gets caught beneath me and my ankle turns in a strange direction sending a sharp pain through my leg. My fall had knocked the walker over but it is crawling towards me. I pull myself up and when I turn, the two walkers from the stairs are standing right in front of me.

To my right is the line of lockers and I tear through them looking for anything that will help. There is nothing. The three walkers push at each other but have freed a straight path for the stairs. I run.

The rest of the store is just as vacant as before though there are a few walkers now. By the time I reach the front doors it is just becoming light outside. I limp through the parking lot until I reach the road. Daryl said to never walk the roads; people are sometimes more dangerous than the walkers. He also said never to get too deep in the woods without him because it's easy to get turned around. I opt for walking nearest the line of trees along the road.

I don't remember it taking this long to get from the church to the store, though we were driving and I am slow with pain. The sun is almost directly above me and my throat is dry with thirst. The throbbing ache in my foot begs me to take a break but I pretend Daryl is dragging me through the forest and it keeps me going a little longer. Somewhere inside I know that I will find him eventually. I am set on a compass that seems to only point at him.

I continue for what seems like days but is probably only an hour, if that. I haven't seen the marker tree for the church's road but I may have passed it already. I slow and look back from the direction I came. I am almost positive I have not seen it yet. I continue to wander. I am lost.

It's cooled considerably but the hazy sun is blurring the road just over the horizon of the hill. I stumble through the grass and let myself collapse to the softness to rest. My ankle is swollen and deep purple but it has to last to the church. I rub slow circles at the top of the bruising when I hear an engine. I manage to stand before I fully see it.

The golden SUV speeds down the hill and it's all I can do to rush out to the road and fling my arms about in the air trying to get their attention. It screeches to a halt about 20 feet away and the door is being thrown open and out comes Maggie with Daryl close behind her. Knowing that I am safe lets me relax but it also finally lets me feel the pain in my leg and I almost collapse but then Daryl's arms are around me holding me up. My hand grips the material of his jacket and I am shaking. _Daryl._

"Shh, I gotcha." We sink to the asphalt and he holds me tighter. Maggie meets us on the ground and grabs my face between her hands though Daryl does not release me.

"Easton, I am so so sorry. Thank god you- I'm so sorry-"

"Maggie," I stop her rambling and place a hand on her arm, "it's okay. I'm okay."

She nods her head and Daryl is inspecting me for wounds. When he finds my ankle he touches it gently but stops when I whimper. One of his arms hooks under my knees and I am pulled up with him. "Let's go yeah?"

Glenn is sitting in the front of the SUV with a wide grin on his face and I wave weakly at him before Daryl sets me down in the car.

"We stayed as long as we could Easton but the walkers-"

Daryl cuts him off telling him it's enough for today. I sit in the middle seat and his body warms up the right side of me. I sink back into the tan leather and hesitantly lean my head on his shoulder. At first he is stiff but soon relaxes against the weight of me.

Hershel insists I sleep on the cot for tonight and Carol sits with me while I eat like she did the first night I was here. She tells me a story of Sophia when she was six years old. She had been climbing a tree and chanced her weight on too thin of a branch, sending her crashing down to the ground. She had broken her arm in three spots. While she tells me this, her hand is stroking unconsciously on the blankets over my covered leg. The other is propped up. I eat slowly so that she will stay and keep talking to me. When I am done and she is gone, it is only a few minutes before Daryl comes in.

He sits in the chair at the head of the bed. "Hi." I say.

"Hey."

He doesn't speak for awhile and begins twisting his red rag in his hands and squints at it. For a minute I think he forgets where he is and he holds an intense stare at the cloth. I reach out and take it from him, placing it on the nightstand. He looks up at me embarrassed and his cheeks darken. Why he's uncomfortable I don't know.

"I was worried about ya." He looks down at me with hooded eyes. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," I pause.

"When they first came back I thought maybe ya'd run off or found yaself a walker."

"I don't want to die anymore." I shake my head at what he said.

"What changed yer mind?"

"You."

His eyebrow raises but he doesn't say anything back. No quick retort or cheeky comment. Something is changing and I don't know if I should be afraid. He exhales my name and brings his elbows to rest on the side of the cot. The springs squeak under the pressure and he covers his face with roughly calloused hands.

I reach out and grab his arm, pulling one hand down but he refuses to look at me.

"What's the matter?"

"I thought ya were gone." The hoarseness saturates his words.

My grip loosens on his arm. My palm slides down his forearm slightly and he flexes the muscle when he realizes I'm still holding onto him. He won't stop staring at my hand.

"Daryl."

Finally I see the blue eyes I've become accustomed to, eyes that I'm often too afraid to look at for long. But he still doesn't say anything. Instead he covers my hand with his and he gives me a sad smile. Sometimes I wish I could read this man's mind. Other times I'm afraid of what I'd find. At the moment I don't know which I feel.

He yawns and his eyes blink slowly. "Tired?"

"Couldn't sleep." He says. He stands to go but I catch his arm.

"Stay." I slide over closer to the wall and throw back the blanket. He sits slowly never taking his eyes off me. He stays like that for awhile but sometime after my eyes have closed I feel the mattress shift and the pressure of his head on the pillow.

In the morning Daryl is gone. Rick said he has gone hunting but he still doesn't come back to our room at night. The two nights that follow he is already asleep when I come in.

Finally, after a week of not even saying a word to him, I climb the stairs to where I know Daryl will be on watch. The climb is somewhat difficult even though my ankle is not as swollen anymore. If he had heard me climbing the stairs he doesn't acknowledge it. The sun causes him to look like a harsh shadow against the bright light. His arm muscles are tense, jaw clenched tightly. I walk over to him and lean against the wall. Just like before, he refuses to fully look at me.

"Ya shouldn'ta walked up the steps with yer foot." He growls.

"Look, I know that I should have been more careful but-"

"I ain't mad at ya fer gettin' hurt." His head shakes slightly.

"Then why are you treatin' me like this?" I turn toward him; inches remain between him and me. His eyes cast down to my body and the proximity to his own.

"Like what?" His voice catches on his question.

I don't know why but I laugh. "You're avoidin' me," I say. "I don't know what I did. If you aren't mad then what's wrong?"

I see his finger nails digging into his arm and he blinks hard. Once. Twice. A few more times. He turns his head toward me briefly but I finally see a crack is his exterior. I've been holding my breath. He leans forward against his arms over the windowsill and I step even closer. Gently I bring my hand to his cheek and turn his face towards me. It looks like I am hurting him.

I bring my lips to his the best I can, but with my ankle I can't stretch high enough to reach him. For a moment his eyes harden to mine but they flicker to my mouth and back, before he closes the distance. It is soft and hesitant.

I slide my hand along the back of his neck pulling him lower but in an instant I am being lifted up. He sets me down on the windowsill and my back faces the windowless air. He latches his arm around my back while the other is already tangled in my hair.

When he pulls me to him, closing the little gap of space between us, my leg knocks against the wall. The sharpness in my leg elicits a muffled whine and he knows he's hurt me. He pulls back and searches my face. Our ragged breathes are mixing in the air between us and the blues of his eyes are almost completely devoured by his pupils. I try to focus on them but I can't keep my mind from my hand that has somehow found his lower back muscles underneath his tattered shirt. I trace my fingers down the scars that converge with his spine. His chest rises and falls. Rises and falls.

Daryl ducks his head and rests his cheek against mine, "I can't-" I'm gripping onto his back like he's going to disappear. The fabric of his shirt in knotted between my fingers and my face contorts in pain. _Don't run. Don't do this._ "I can't need you like this."

And my hand is tugged away from the dark blue cotton and the scruff on his chin slices away at my cheek as he pulls away and sets me back on the ground. His lips linger over mine but he doesn't kiss me again. "I'm sorry."

I'm left standing in the sunlight and flakes of dust are floating in the air. It reminds me of the field where I felt light and free. Like I wasn't even in my own body. Like a ghost, lying down in the dewy greens. As if I was already dead.

But I don't feel that now. Instead I feel the pain in my foot and a different kind that slowly spreads from my chest, through my blood stream all the way to my toes. It hums in my finger tips.

The empty hole I was desperate to fill with his love is slowly stacking full of butterflies and their bones.


	8. Chapter 8

Not even going to give you an excuse on why this took so damn long but bless you people that are still reading this

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Today is significantly cooler than the days before it. The sun no longer burns down with a vengeful force. Instead, it blankets apologetic warmth over us and the group takes advantage of the breeze. Daryl sits next to me with his eyes closed and head leaned back on a log, it reminds me of the cabin. Everything reminds me of our time there.

It has been three months since we kissed and our interactions are limited to conversations that fall short of small talk. I remark about the weather. "It's perfect for hunting." I yawn and he asks if I have had a hard time sleeping. I tell him I don't. I don't want him to know that his presence is missed in our – my – room.

We're very gentle with each other now like strangers, as if we had only just met. We ignore the side stares from the others and brush off quick questions about what happened. He tells them he misses sleeping in a tent in the open air. I say that when Daryl makes up his mind, it's made. He pretends he doesn't know what I am feeling and I try to ignore what I do.

Sometimes when I see him in the early morning preparing to head for the woods, I get caught off guard by how much I miss him. There are days when I feel like the words and the thoughts and all of the emotions will come pouring out of my mouth. But I cram them down into a pit of almost somewhere in my stomach.

I want to tell him I wish we would have stayed back up on the mountain, burrowing ourselves into the cabin through the winter and then fleeing into the summer sun down by the river. No walkers, no scavengers, no one but us two. I wish that we could trace pale lines of each other's tans out in the meadow and how nice that all would be.

His eyes are on me now with an eyebrow raised at my prolonged stare. I clear my throat and turn my attention to Carl who is playing with baby Judith. He begins to say something but is cut off by Carol who tells me it is my turn for watch. She takes my spot next to Daryl and he laughs at her greeting.

It's an hour into my shift and the group is still lounging in the grass down below. Carol is passing around mismatched bowls full of some sort of stew and Sasha climbs the stairs to bring me one.

"Here you go." She passes it over and leans against the windowsill directly next to me.

"Thanks."

We eat to the sound of spoons scraping and soft chatter. I set my bowl down and when I turn back to Sasha she is leaning intently out the window.

"What are you doing?"

"Give me the binoculars," her left hand grasps at the air until I place them into her hand. I squint out at the road and see small specs at the top of the hill.

"Sasha?"

"Walkers." She shoves the binoculars to me and rushes down the stairs. Bowls are thrown down, Beth rushes inside with Judith and Hershel hobbles in behind them. Daryl and Rick are already by the cars with bow and barrel drawn. They crouch down behind the barrier and wait. The others are spaced out in clusters around the fence. If they are quiet, the walkers should pass by.

I bring the lenses to my eyes. These are not walkers, at least not the two or three bodies in the front of the heard. They do not limp and move too quickly. The closer they get the clearer the groaning becomes. However, it morphs into shouts of help. I bound down the steps, skipping every other one.

I slide down next to Rick, "There are survivors."

"What?" Daryl's head snaps in my direction and he lowers his bow.

"There are a couple of them. They're runnin.'"

"And bringin' the whole damn herd with 'em." He growls as he peeks over the hood.

"Rick, there's enough of a gap between them, they could jump the cars and give us enough time for the walkers to just keep goin.'"

"We can't take in more people; we don't got enough food for us now."

"Daryl, we have to help." Rick ignores Daryl's glare and doesn't stop him when he stalks off to the farthest car.

"We need them to quiet down." He says. I look back at the group who stare out at the mob of bodies coming our way.

"I'll run out and meet them."

"East-" I stop him with my hand and squeeze through the gap between the SUV and truck. Daryl shouts something at me but I'm already headed in the survivor's direction. There is young girl, maybe five or six being drug behind a boy around my own age. She is crying and gasping for air. The laces of her worn tennis shoes fling about the dirt and she stumbles. He stops and rips her through the air up to his hip. Beside him is a middle aged man clutching onto a couple duffle bags. His face is tense with fear until he sees me and then relief spreads slowly from his crinkled eyes to his sun cracked lips. The dust of the road is kicking up behind them, sending the walkers through a fog.

I reach them and skid to a stop. I grab a bag from the man and sling it over my shoulder, "go, go, go! Head to the cars!" I am pushing his back and sending him forward. The boy chances a look back at the walkers and stumbles forward. His knee connects loudly to the ground and it sends the girl crashing to his side. There is blood pooling around it and his leg buckles under him as he tries to stand. I push him forward toward the older man who has turned back to us.

"Go, I've got her!"

He glances at her reluctantly before the man is pulling him toward the church, only a few hundred yards away now. The delay has allowed the walkers to gain on us. I pick up the girl and instead of heading for the church, I pivot sideways off the road and into the tall grass. There is a large group of trees lining the road and most have low enough branches to climb. I set her down at its trunk.

"You have to climb okay? I'll be right behind you." She is hyperventilating now and I place my palms on her cheeks forcing her to look at me. "Breathe. You need to breathe."

I count with her slowly, telling her it will be okay. But when I look back the walkers are too close to keep this going. I hook my hands under her arms and thrust her up to the branches; thankfully she latches on and pulls herself up. When we are high enough and nestled into a concaved section of the tree I bring her to my lap and hold her to my chest. Her own heaves and wheezes for air.

"Shh, shh." I try to soothe her but it doesn't help. The boy and man have reached the cars and they disappear from sight. The majority of the walkers stumble on after them but a few clutch and paw at the tree. I turn my attention back to the girl.

"Hey," she doesn't loosen her grip around me but her breathing has become labored. "Hey," I repeat and shake her gently. Soon there are large, blue orbs staring up at me.

"What's your name?"

"Jenna," she whispers. I tell her I am Easton and she smiles. I point out to the church and tell her that's where we are headed, though we have to wait for the walkers to leave. A good half hour passes before the sea of tattered limbs has disappeared from view and two figures, who I presume are Rick and Daryl, head our way.

With an axe slung in his hand, Rick barrels toward the walker that has turned his way, sending the rusted blade through its skull. One arrow, two, and then three zip past Rick and find their marks. There is only one left at the base of the tree and Rick swings at it fiercely.

Daryl is ripping his arrows from the heads of the walkers and he is tense. Rick looks back at him then up at the two of us.

"He's not very happy with you," he says and extends his arms up to take Jenna. He turns to set her down but she clutches at his shoulders while eyeing the rotted corpses. I tell him I am fine and start to climb down. Before my feet can touch the ground two strong hands grip at my waist and set me softly on my feet. I turn to a very stern face.

"What's your problem?" I try to sound irritated but it's a pathetic attempt.

He lets his hands drop and picks up his bow, following after Rick and the little girl.

"Let them stay." Carol pleads with eyes fixed across the yard at Jenna. Beth and Hershel second her plea. Maggie and Glenn look at each other unsure.

"We can't take on more people." Daryl growls from behind Rick but no one agrees with him directly. "There's not enough food as it is. We don't know these people. We can't trust 'em."

Tyreese steps forward, "You took us in. Do the same for them."

"That wasn't my choice," he spits back but Tyreese doesn't back down. "But you brought her," he gestures over at me as I am perched on a fence post.

"Daryl, he's right." Rick breaks the pause and Daryl crosses his arm as he leans back on the side of the church.

"So we're agreed?" He continues and the group nods in response.

I slide off the fence and walk to the trio.

"Looks like you're officially welcomed." I smile at them and again relief flows over the man's face. I grab their bags and motion for them to follow me. When we reach my room I place the two bags on the right side, where Daryl's things used to be. I drag my sleeping bag closer to the left wall and tell them they can have the other side of the room. Carol brings in two sleeping bags and a few extra blankets. Beth is close behind with a dozen pieces of bread and left over stew. They say goodnight and head to their own rooms.

"I'm Tom," says the older man. "These are my kids, Matthew and Jenna."

"We've met," I smile at her as she shoves a piece of bread into her already stuffed mouth. Matthew extends a hand and I shake it gently. They settle down and savor their dinner; I leave the family behind and head outside.

The sun is slowly sinking behind the trees and I climb the bell tower stairs. Tyreese greets and thanks me when I offer to take over for him. He lumbers down the stairs and across the lawn into the church. I swing my legs over the ledge of the window and stare out to the smoldering light.

This space has become solitude where I feel safe. Yet I just feel lonely out here like someone should have been standing next to me watching the sun set. Almost as if the thought had been out loud, the top stair creaks and I turn to see Matthew standing there.

"Sorry," he says, "I don't mean to interrupt."

"You're fine," I smile and turn back towards the view. "Do you guys need anything?"

"No, no we're fine. I just wanted to say thank you."

"You're welcome. You want to sit with me? Consider this your watch training."

He laughs and settles down next to me. He tells me of how they got here, came down from Virginia with a church group but got separated somewhere in Tennessee. He doesn't know what their plan was. He says we're the first group to offer a permanent stay; there had been two or three before that only took their things and left them exposed to walkers.

"What about you? How'd you end up here?"

Just as he asks, the Church doors swing open spilling light across the shadowed grass. Daryl strides out and casts a swift glance up at the bell tower. Our eyes meet for just a moment and he stops where he is.

"Him." I nod my head in Daryl's direction. He's only there a minute longer before he unzips his tent and climbs in.

He waits for me to continue but all I add is "he saved me."

"From walkers?"

I shake my head slightly. The sun has almost completely disappeared from view. "Myself."

I don't think he quite understands by the look he gives me. He says he should get back to Jenna, "she can't sleep without us both there," before thanking me once more and heads back down from the tower. As he passes Daryl's tent, Daryl emerges quietly but doesn't seem to say anything to him. With arrows in hand he meanders his way to the base of the building. It seems to take him years to climb up here and as wait my heart beats faster and my palms become slick with nervous sweat.

He leans up against the window and crosses his arms against the wood.

I turn to leave but he tells me to wait. He leans back against the frame looking down at the floor and licks his lip hesitantly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I ask though I know what he's referring to.

"Ya should go get some rest its-"

"Daryl."

"It's late, Easton."

"Daryl." I stare at him intently.

"I'm sorry that I led ya on."

I choke on my laugh. But his face is dark and I realize that he believes it. "That is such bullshit. You didn't lead me on. You had feelings for me too."

"No. I didn't."

"You don't care about me?" For a minute I begin to panic. What if he hadn't? He shakes his head but now the anger has slipped away and his face is only left with a dull pain.

"Daryl-" I won't let this be another almost, "I love you." His eyes wince and his jaw clenches. "I thought you loved me too."

"I don't love you. I won't ever love you." Though he only whispers it, his words echo through me. This is wrong and I do not believe him.

"You're lying."

"Easton-"

"No. You think this makes you some kind of hero? A martyr or something? Not letting yourself love doesn't make you brave. It makes you selfish and a coward."

He takes a quick step toward me but this time I don't cower away from him. "I don't love you."

"Even if you don't –even if you're telling the truth – I don't care. I'm in love with you." This time I am the one who takes a step closer putting us only inches apart but he doesn't flinch.

"I can't love you Easton. I can't care."

"Why?" I search his eyes but they're cold, shut off from outsiders.

His head falls forward and rests against mine. His forehead is warm and his hair is soft against my skin.

"We'll only hurt each other."

I tell him that's not true, that I won't hurt him. I run a hand down his arm until it reaches the rough skin of his hand and clasp it in my own.

"Easton, don't."

"Okay," I say as I let his hand slip from mine and pull back from him. I don't even bother looking up to his face as I go.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sooo who played 400 days? I was sad it was so short :( lemme know what you think of this chapter if you don't minddd. I'm also thinking of only a having a few more chapters, maybe just another. I already have the last one mostly written ****;)**

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It has started to rain and by the time I reach the doors of the Church I am soaked. My jacket is torn away from my arms and I discard it on a pew. I fall back onto the smooth wood and let my head fall into my slick hands. My face is wet but I don't know if that's from tears or the water dripping from my hair.

"Easton?" My head snaps up and I see Carol with Judith on her hip, face red from screaming.

"It's raining."

"I see that." She hands over the baby who sucks at the air waiting for her bottle. Carol boils the water in a worn pan over the portable stove. She grabs the can of formula and scoops some into a bottle. She sits on the ground by my feet while she waits for it to warm.

I ask where Rick is and she says that he is with Glenn and Tyreese, looking over maps to find a new place to scavenge supplies. We will need them with the new additions to our group. We also need to stock up for winter.

"Are you alright?"

"I kissed Daryl."

"Just now?" Her eyes widened.

"Three months ago." She asks if that's why he started sleeping in the tent. I tell her it was.

Judith grapples at my hair and it snakes in her fingers. Her biggest concern is her immediate hunger yet she is still happy. I worry for her growing up in this world. I worry for Carl. I worry for myself. I worry for us all.

Carol yawns as she pours the hot water into the bottle and I offer to feed Judith. "I can take her for the rest of the night, if you want to get some sleep."

She smiles and stands but before she leaves she rests her hand on my shoulder and kisses the top of my head. "Don't give up on him."

I am feeding baby Judith her morning bottle when Jenna walks over to us with her own breakfast being chewed vengefully. Her father turns back to the spot she had just been and realizes she is no longer laying beside him; he twists about looking for her. I shout to him that I have her and she is fine. It seems to take him a good five minutes to settle down. Matt is helping Sasha with the laundry. She dunks and scrubs the shirts and jeans and he stretches high to hang them on our make shift lines.

"What's her name?"

"Judith. Do you want to help me feed her?"

She climbs up onto my lap and nestles between my crossed legs. I set the baby in hers just the same and prop her arm atop of mine. Her thin, short fingers curl around the bottle and she coos down at Judith.

"You're good at this," I tell her.

"There was a baby with us. My mom let me do this too."

"There was a baby in your group? Before you got here?" She tells me his name was Adam.

Judith sucks at the bottle and stares up at the two of us, unaware that she is very lucky. She sucks for a few minutes until the bottle is empty.

"Jenna what happened to your group?" I am almost scared to ask.

"They died." She says it like the sky is blue.

"What happened to your mom?"

"They ate her." Her detachment from her words makes me feel hollow. "The walkers got my parents, too." I lean my chin on her head and she falls back into me.

"No, the people."

"Beth where's Rick?"

"He's out checking the fences," I hand her the baby and tell her she doesn't need to be fed. Jenna makes a beeline for Matt and snakes around his legs. Sasha blows suds at them from her outstretched palm.

When I find Rick he is out by himself, kicking and prodding at the fence. He pulls a nail out his pocket and pulls a hanging board up to where it belongs and begins tacking it back into place.

"Rick," he continues down the fence but motions for me to follow.

"Fence is holdin' pretty good ain't it?"

"Rick." Now he stops and I have his full attention.

"What's the matter?" I tell him what Jenna said, about the people eating her mother.

"Maybe she's just confused, Easton. She's what, five?" He tacks another board into place and says that ought to do it.

"Rick I think she really meant people. As in cannibals. People who could be pretty close behind them."

"So what," he steps toward me forgetting his task, "these people are bait and..?"

"And maybe we fell right into the trap?" His face grows dark.

He pushes past me and when I ask him where he is going, he is shouting at Tom and Matt, whoever will respond. I catch up to him and grab him by the arm.

"Don't, Rick. Figure it out before you yell it to everyone. You'll just scare them!"

Tom comes into view and looks very worried at the expression on Ricks face. Guilty even. Rick strides over to the man and grabs him by the collar dragging him to the far side of the car line.

"What happened to your group?"

"What's the matter?"

Rick rounds his body shoving him roughly into the SUV. Tom groans at the impact and his eyes widen further with fear. I step toward them, "Jenna, she said that her mom was – ate – by the people. What people?"

He curses under his breath and wipes his hand across his forehead. Matt has found us and is demanding why Rick has him pinned to the car. Daryl, who was on watch, is now standing on Ricks other side giving me a questioning look but I just shake my head.

"We'll tell you," Matt interjects, "just let him go."

"When we first had come down to Georgia there were about twenty of us. We had one of those old school buses that the church had bought for the Sunday school to take their trips on, loaded it up with canned foods and clothes. But we ran out of gas just past Atlanta and all the cars on the highway had been siphoned clean, so we went out on foot." Tom folds his hands and sets them in his lap. "By the time we got to Macon there were only a dozen of us left, and none of us had much hope. We prayed to God every night around our camp fire and everyday he let us wake up again but that wasn't enough for most. They wanted a home to live in and at the time that's what I and my wife, Sarah, wanted too. Somewhere safe for the kids." He looks over at Matt who hasn't taken his eyes off Rick and Daryl.

"So we set out in groups of two or three to search for other survivors. We never went too far to be safe but after a couple weeks we knew that we had to broaden the search."

Matt finally speaks, "Our pastor went out with his wife and three others and wandered into this neighborhood that looked abandoned, said it had blood stained grass in the front yards of the houses, streaks of it coming down the driveways out of the garages and front doors." His hand swipes over his mouth and he bites his lip.

"He came back with a truck load of army men, had their uniforms and everything still. We packed up the camp and we just went willing with them. We thought God had finally answered our prayers. We got to this gated community, there were heads stuck up on top of the fences and piles of bodies lining the bottom of them," Matt shakes his head solemnly.

Tom continues and Matt looks sick to his stomach.

"The first week was great. Water, food, beds. I don't think I ever ate so good in my life," his laugh is bitter and I feel my stomach turn. "Funny now when you think about it."

"I had finished my duty of doing laundry with Sarah and she had gone back to the house they had put us all in. I thought I'd go help out with dinner since my dad had owned a restaurant and all. When I got to the big kitchen, there was already meat stewing in a pot with a plate of boiled bones right next to it. A second pot of water had just started to boil so I figured the cook was somewhere getting the next batch of meat." Tom swallows down something before he starts again. "I went out back to where I heard some talkin.' There were cages out back, like you'd have for animals. But there weren't animals in them, there was people."

My heart stops briefly when I realize Jenna's words were exactly how they had sounded: these people _were_ cannibals.

"The biggest guy reached in the cage and grabbed a smaller man by his hair and drug him out. He was gagged just like the rest of the people in there. They-" his jaw clenches and he looks up at us with painful eyes, "they skinned him, alive. In front of all the others. They laughed about it."

"How did you get out?" Rick asks.

"I ran back to the house and rounded everyone up. Told them we had to leave, that these people were going to put us in those cages. But when we headed for the gate, a couple of men were waiting for us. So we all just took off, in every direction." He tells of how he gave Jenna to Matt and sent them towards the back side of the community, hoping that Tom and his wife, Sarah, could draw the guards away from them. But Sarah was shot dead and he had to leave her behind. He thinks a few others might have escaped but he couldn't be sure. He stayed close enough to find his kids and when he did, they took off in the church's direction. That was about six days ago.

Everyone is still, Rick sweeps his eyes across the small groups outside, making sure no one is headed in our direction. Daryl starts to stalk back and forth in a quick pacing motion, like a boxer readying himself for a fight.

"So ya coulda led 'em straight here? Shit. What if they're just waitin' to come get us all?"

"Daryl," I grab his shoulder and try to stop his sporadic movement, "calm down, it'll be okay."

"No, it's not fuckin' okay!" He yells over the top of my head, "What the hell were ya thinkin!'" He's dropped his bow at his feet and I have to put both palms on his chest to keep him from going closer toward Tom, who is now standing. Tom may not have anything on Daryl but Matt is equally sized and has stepped in front of his father.

"I was thinking we were going to die and I needed to save my children. When you have a child you need to protect, then you question my decisions. But until then you have no idea what it's like." His eyes plead to Rick, for some sort of understanding. He takes his eyes off of Daryl who has had something snap inside him. I see it happen in his eyes. I am being shoved aside and Daryl lunges at them both.

Of course Matt stops him from attacking the older man and soon they are both withering on the ground but Daryl gets the best of him. He punches repeatedly. I grab his slung back arm but it frees itself cracking against Matt's face for a fourth time. Rick is holding Tom back and I try again to pull Daryl off Matt.

But when Daryl recoils, his elbow sails back to my face and splits the skin of my eyebrow. There is warm liquid spilling down my cheek and I gasp at the pinching sensation.

"Daryl, stop!" Rick pushes Tom down and tackles Daryl to the dirt. Matt groans in pain and cradles his nose. I am in a similar position. When Daryl sees he's hurt me, he relaxes against Ricks hold.

"Shit."

We are sitting side by side on the cot, Hershel has already cleaned up Matt. Rick has called an emergency meeting with the rest of the group. We have to be prepared now. Tom estimated a dozen people in the cages, enough to hold the men a few days, maybe weeks. Though there could be scouts out watching the church already. Hershel says we should be trying to rescue the people they have hostage but from the sounds of it we are outnumbered and out gunned.

Hershel turns rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and rubs it over Daryl's knuckles. His hisses protest at the action and Hershel turns to me and says he's going to have to stitch me up, though it should only be three or four at most. I glare at Daryl as he strings the needle.

"Sorry," He mutters as he runs a thumb gingerly across the cracked skin of his hand.

It takes Hershel only a few minutes to fix my brow and he sends me off. But I just move to the other side of the room and lean up against the wall. When Hershel is done there are white bandages wrapped around Daryl's hand. Hershel pauses between us and shakes his head as he leaves the room.

"You're an idiot."

Daryl doesn't look up at me, "he had it comin.'"

"Did he?" He looks up now. "You really lost it back there," I fold my arms across my chest as he leans against the table directly in front of me.

"They put us all in danger, Easton. There could be a whole goddamn group comin' for us right now and that bullshit 'bout me not knowin' what it's like to protect a child – I had Sophia – she may nota been mine but-" he stops and looks at the ground like it was what had offended him. "I would have done anythin' to get 'er back."

I don't say anything and let his anger brew until it has cooled. "Sorry," he groans.

"It's okay."

"Are ya scared?" He says after awhile. His eyes search my face. I nod and he nods too.

"They're goin' to come get us aren't they?" At the moment I don't know which 'them' I mean. My mind keeps flashing to images of walkers tearing peoples flesh from bone to people skinning others alive. I try to blink them away but it just makes them flash faster.

He steps over to me and pulls me gently towards him, wrapping arms loosely around my shoulders. He doesn't say anything.

"Daryl?" I pull back from him.

"I don't know."

He brings his hand up to my face and pushes hair from my forehead. His eyes shift up to my wound before sliding his thumb along my bandage. "I keep hurtin' ya." His attempt to change the subject is pathetic but with his blue eyes on me, I forget the fear for a moment.

"Why won't you let me love you?" I whisper. I look up at him but his cold stare does not falter.

He leans forward with hot breath that lingers at the edge of my mouth, "I'm afraid."

His rough, dry lips hunt for mine. The kiss is not tender like before. While my shaking hands find the skin above his jeans and the cotton hem of his shirt is being twisted in my fingers, his own copy the movement though they are in my hair and at my back and somehow everywhere at once.

His good hand skims down the front of my body, his thumb hooking under my shirt before retracing its path and pulling it upward. I am tugging the flannel down his biceps and my palms feel muscle flex beneath them. Our shirts are discarded to the floor. His chest is warm against my own. His fingers leave burning trails along my spine, across my collar bones, down my thighs.

I understood now, the hunger that the walkers felt: the need to bite and claw away at skin, to savor lips, and devour another. As if this might be the last time you'd ever get the chance.

But walkers would never feel the heat of his skin as I do. They would never hear his moans against their throats. As alive as they may seem, they will always be dead inside.

I think that before Daryl I may have been one of them all along.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: These next two chapters were going to be combined but it was waaaay too long so I split them up (they're still long haha) The next update will either be tomorrow or the day after, don't you worry (;**

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_"Why won't you let me love you?" I whisper. I look up at him but his cold stare does not falter. _

_He leans forward with hot breath that lingers at the edge of my mouth, "I'm afraid."_

_He places his rough, dry lips on my own. The kiss is not tender like before. While my shaking hands find the skin above his jeans and the cotton hem of his shirt is being twisted in my fingers, his own copy the movement though they are in my hair and at my back and somehow everywhere all at once._

_His good hand skims down the front of my body, his thumb hooking under my shirt before retracing its path and pulling it upward. I am tugging the flannel down his biceps and my palms feel muscle flex beneath them. Our shirts are discarded to the floor. His chest is warm against my own. His fingers leave burning trails along my spine, across my collar bones, down my thighs._

* * *

Daryl rolls off of me and I involuntarily whine at the sudden shock of cool air that replaces his body heat. His eyes are closed with a hand lazily strewn across his chest and he breathes heavily. I lay staring at him for several minutes until his eyes open and he stares at the ceiling. Hesitantly I edge my fingertip down his arm. Though I notice his face twitches at the contact and let it fall to the hardwood floor once I reach his wrist.

I don't expect him to pull me close and whisper adorations in my ear, but I would be lying if I said his silence didn't hurt me. I reach across him to grab my clothes from the pile we hastily made undressing each other. I slip on my underwear as he starts to do the same. I tug up my jeans and yank my shirt over my head with a surge of anger at his aloofness. But as I push past him to leave there's a sudden, tight grip on my wrist and I am jerked slightly backwards. Daryl's hand moves up above my elbow and from this angle my head is tilted sharply back so that I can look him in the eye. Daryl's eyes are dark as they roam my face and he grips my chin with his other hand.

My anger flickers while he growls down at me "this ain't some one night stand to me, understand?" I nod and his lets go of my chin.

I stare blankly at him but accept that is the closest admitance of feelings I will get. We leave the small room and head towards the sound of Rick's voice. The group is seated among the pews while Rick perches on the alters top step with his hands clasped together under his chin. We slide into the front row next to Carol who cradles a sleeping Judith. I search the room behind us, Matt, Jenna, and their father are not here.

"So?" Rick looks up at us and I raise an eyebrow over at Daryl. We have clearly missed something important.

"We can't just throw them out," Hershel is shaking his head, "Nor should we pretend we don't know about the captives."

"You want us to go get them?" Maggie looks behind at her father incredulously. Glenn turns back as well, "but they _eat_ people!"

"What exactly we decidin' here?" The growl is low beside me and it silences the others.

"You're not deciding anything." Ricks head snaps towards the hallway as Tom and Matt emerge from it, each pointing a gun at Rick and Daryl. Daryls hands itch to his back instictively and he curses under his breath when he realizes he does not have his bow.

"What're you doing?" Hershel stands shakily and Beth tries to pull him back down to sit.

"Nobody's going anywhere," Tom shifts the barrel towards Hershel, motioning for him to sit before turning it back to Rick. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" Rick rises then takes a small step forward but Tom cocks the weapon.

"Daryl," I hiss and my nails dig into the flesh of his forearm. He snarls at the pressure.

"Jenna." I nod toward her. She is standing just behind Matt, peeking around his legs. But what I notice most is the small black box she clutches to her chest.

"What's the kid got?" Daryl is standing now and Matt aims his gun up at his head.

"Is that a radio?" Carol fidgets next to me.

"Tom, what the hell is going on?" Ricks hand slides across his obliques to where his gun is tucked between the waist of his pants.

"It's too late, Rick," the man shakes his head. "I'm sorry I had to do this. But they have my wife." His words drip with anxiety and remorse. I feel no empathy at the moment. He looks like a wild animal.

"Ya said yer wife was dead," My hand clutches at Daryl's trying to keep him from advancing on Matt.

A rumble comes from outside and lights flood the windows. Carol cries out and Maggie runs to the nearest window. "Oh god." She whispers.

With Matt focused on Maggie, Daryl reaches out and rips the gun from him, swinging it hard against the side of his head. Jenna cries out and Judith soon joins with her own screaming. Carol rocks her fiercely.

Tyreese is suddenly crashing through the front door, hands bound and gagged. A tall, lean man pushes him forward and he slides across the hardwood. Sasha scrambles over to him but cowers under the mans intense stare. Rick takes the opportunity to overpower Tom, now having both guns pointed at the doorway. Behind the tall man are several others, wearing standard issued army clothing or generic cargo pants. Some look actual military, others do not.

"I suggest you lower your weapons gentleman," the mans sophisticated voice drawls out through the room as he steps farther in the doorway. "A fire fight with my men would not be in your best interest. Good to see you again, Tom." He nods in the mans direction though he is unconscious on the floor. I've made my way to Jenna and bring her to me, trying to calm her down. She's crying and shaking with fearful eyes fixed on the man.

Daryl moves closer to us, shielding both Jenna and I from the men. I pick her up and she buries her head in the crook of my neck. Several men stream into the room, each grabbing someone. It takes two men to control Hershel. Maggie and Glenn have to be practically dragged out from the room. Tyreese is being hauled to his feet again but the man doesn't take him outside with the others right away. Daryl and Rick are the only others left in the room, and much to the mans displeasure, they haven't lowered their weapons.

He strides over to Rick and gives a sly grin as he examines him. "I expected Dixon here to be volatile, but not you, Sheriff." The way he says it makes my blood turn. He obviously has no qualms about provoking a very capable man yielding two guns pointed directly at his chest. Two men come in and flank Rick, with high power guns. Reluctantly, Rick drops his own, raising his hands in the air. They strike him firmly over the back of the head.

"Rick!" I cry out but Daryl stops me from advancing with a strong arm. The men begin to drag Rick toward the cars outside. The man turns to us and he raises an interested brow at Daryl.

"I've been waiting a long time to meet you, Daryl."

"Come any closer and i'll blow yer brains out, fucker." He extends the gun farther from his body.

"Damn, little brother, when'd ya grow a pair?"

I turn my head sharply to the door but Daryl refuses to look away from the man in front of us, though I notice his shoulders tense and his fingers curl. A bulky man leans against the door fame. His arms are crossed against his chest and one has steel coating starting at the bottom of his elbow. A large knife is fixed on the end of it.

"Son of a bitch," Daryl huffs out as he finally looks in the doorways direction. "Merle."

* * *

They don't bother binding our hands, save for Tyreese, who a scout snuck up on before the rest of the cavalry rolled in. We are split between three vehicles except for Rick and Daryl,who were shoved into a large SUV with the man, who called himself the Governor, and Merle.

I am in the truck behind them with Jenna securely at my side. Her brother and Tom were drug into the last of the trucks, still unconscious from their blows to the head. Carol sits on my other side, rocking Judith and cooing in her ear. Judith is sleeping now so the actions are for Carols own nerves. Tyreese is across from us. There is only one armed man in the front while a smaller man drives. Glenn and Maggie are in the last truck with Jenna's family, and Hershel, Beth, Carl, and Sasha are in the truck directly behind us. I don't know how many armed men are with them.

It's roughly an hour drive, and now I am sure that Tom and Matt did not run into the church on accident. They were breathless when I met them on the road, but not exhausted from that long of a run. The scout who jumped Tyreese must have made the trip to the church sometime before that.

The black SUV's brake lights flicker. Then we swing down a right turn and dust kicks up around the cars as we hit a dirt road. It's only a short cut though, and soon we are back on a paved main road. About a mile down the stretch there are several buildings, a gas station, a diner, mom and pop stores, but before we reach them there is a large, chain link fence that surrounds it. This Matt did not lie about, severed walker heads are placed at the top of the fence, lining the length of it. A guard tower looms above it and a man emerges onto the small catwalk before its glides easily open.

We drive further into the community and soon small residential houses come into view, with blood trails coming from the entrances, just as Matt had described. The SUV rolls to a stop in front of a small inn and Daryl and Rick are being thrown out of the car. Our own vehicle slows to halt.

"Get out," the soldier gruffs and Carol and I obediently take the two girls and climb out the back. The man that was riding in the SUV has his gun trained on both Daryl and Rick, just as our guard has on us. We walk towards the lawn and stand beside them in the freshly cut grass. Glenn and Maggie join us, as do the occupants of the second car. By now Tom and Matt are awake and Jenna streams toward them, connecting solidly to Matts legs.

Tom steps toward the Governor, Merle raises his eyes at the gesture and I know that this will not end well for the man. "Where's my wife? I did what you wanted. Now give her to me!"

The Governor merely stares at him, showing no inclination to answer his question, nor to give him his wife. When he turns to instruct Merle, Tom grabs his shoulder roughly. The man pauses at the contact and places his own hand on top of Tom's before gripping it and twisting his arm back so that he sinks to the ground in pain.

"You do not make demands here, Tom."

He whimpers and the Governor releases him. Turning to us, he regards Rick with a bored expression. "Now, I have a proposal for you."

"I'm listening."

"As you are well aware," he shoots a threatening look down at Tom, "our food supply is beginning to run a little low."

"And?" Rick sounds impatient.

"And," he smiles, "you have a hunter. He also happens to be kin to my right hand man." Daryl growls at the acknowledgment and I shrink behind him as the Governors attention moves in our direction. "I'm offering a trade. Merles brother, the women and children, for your lives."

"You expect me to agree to that?" Ricks head cocks to the side and he steps closer to the man. All reservations clearly gone with the request.

"Well, in all honesty," he opens his hands in a sweeping gesture to his men, "you don't really have a choice."

"No," Rick shakes his head, "Absolutely not."

The Governors grin doesn't stray from his face as he pulls his gun from its holster and shoots Tom directly between the eyes, without so much as a glance. Jenna shrieks and Matt yelps. "You're down to five men leaving with you, want to make it four?" He moves his aim to Glenn who pales almost instantly.

"Who said I'm stayin'?" Daryl spits out at him in an effort to advert the Governors attention.

"Don't mind him, Gov." Merle shoots Daryl a look but Daryl doesn't cower back.

"I ain't stayin.'" He gives a throaty growl.

"Don't be a bitch 'bout this, Bro. I'm tryna save yer sorry ass here!" Merle has Daryl by the arm but he yanks it lose before pushing him back.

"Don't touch me! What the fucks the matter with ya? What're ya bein' this guys bitch for? Followin' him 'round like some fuckin' lap dog!" The Governor watches their exchange with mild amusement.

"At least he didn't leave me chained to the top of a fuckin' buildin' in Atlanta! No, couldn't even spare the time to go get Merle, now could you?" Malice flashes through his eyes, eyes identical to Daryl's.

"I went back for ya," he shoves him again, this time more gentle. "We went back for ya!" His eyes are pleading towards Merle, the first I've ever seen the expression on his face. Merle pauses but he doesn't seem to believe him.

"You don't give a shit 'bout me no more! Got a boyfriend," he points at Rick, "and then yer bitch," now he points at me. I take a step back not wanting him to come near me. "And you know what little brother? She's gunna be the first one we all have a go at. I'll take her-" Daryl tackles him to the ground before wailing on his face. Merle head butts him and rolls them over but Daryl scrambles out from under him, he may be smaller than his brother but he is also quicker.

With the commotion, Matt scooped up Jenna in his arms and took off towards the gates. He was at least two hundred yards from the group when the soldiers realized he was gone, a few took off after him. Rick takes the opportunity to punch one man in the face, while Glenn attacks another. It was like fire was set, we knew it was do or die. I move to help Maggie but Rick grabs me first.

He pulls my neck so that our faces are inches apart, "get my children out of here." I swallow heavily and nod before sprinting past him. Carol and Beth have a man on the ground while Carl has Judith pressed to him on his left side and grabs at the mans pistol. I scoop up the baby and grab Carls arm pulling him behind me, he simultaneously grabs onto Beth. Though we are slower hooked together like this I am afraid if one of them is let go, I will lose them.

Before we can get close enough, a man up in the watch tower has started to close the front gate. He sees us and nudges the soldier next to him, pointing in our direction. I make a quick right and we disappear behind a low building but I can hear his thick boots clamoring down the iron stairs.

"Over there!" Beth starts to drag us towards a large warehouse type of building and we slide in the slightly ajar door. When we are inside I head deep into corner of the building and shove Carl and Beth behind storage crates, ensuring that even if the flood lights are turned on, no one will see them. I hesitate to leave Judith with them.

"Don't move from this spot. Understand?" Beths eyes widen and Carl glares at me.

"You're leaving us?" Beth seems almost hysterical as I shove the hidden knife from my boot at her.

"I want to help!" Carl is pulling out his gun but I shove him back into the corner.

"Carl you need to stay here and protect Beth, okay? I need to go find us a way out and I'll be faster by myself."

"You can't tell me what to do!" He steps toward me defiantly but he still only comes to my nose.

I kneel slightly and grab his neck just as his father had grabbed mine, "Beth needs you, Carl." He chances a look at her shaking form but I pull his focus back to me. "I need you. I need you to stay here, okay?"

"What about Judith?"

I look down at her, her brown eyes lazily looking up at me before her head lulls over and coos at her older brother. He reaches for his baby sister and reluctantly I let her go to him. She has yet to cry but I don't know how long it will last.

"If she crys-" he cuts me off and says that they can handle it and crawls back to where Beth is. With one arm curled around his baby sister the other snakes over Beth's shoulders and pulls her to him.

"If anyone other than our group comes near you, consider them a walker." He nods again.

"I'll be right back, I promise."

"Go," he urges.

I turn from them and head towards the front of the warehouse. I sprint out across the small dirt alley and back around the other side. When I get back to the guard tower the two men are gone. When I make sure there isn't anyone paying attention I sprint up the stairs trying to remain as silent as possible. When I get inside there are a dozen controls. The first lever does nothing while the second and third merely turn off the lights and security cameras. I turn both back on and try another one of the opposite side of the board. This one controls the gate and I hear a soft creak from down below. I peek my head out the window and the gate is sliding slowly open. My instant relief is short lived when I hear rapid gun fire. It's too far away to be an immediate threat to Carl and the two girls. Regardless, I haul back to the warehouse and when I round the corner to where they are hiding, the barrel of a gun is staring me down.

"I almost shot you," he breathes out.

"Good," I give him a strained smile and pick up Judith out of Beth's arms. She seems more relaxed than before and I grab her hand. "The gates open, lets go."

Thankfully none of the soldiers have noticed its no longer shut and I take them straight to it. I slow down and crouch beside Beth and Carl. I hand Judith over to Beth and she clutches her close to her chest.

"I want to go with you. I have to find my dad." Carl looks at me with conviction but I can see fear in his eyes.

"You can't." I shake my head at him. Before he interrupts I continue, "Carl, if no one else makes it out you're going to be the only one left to look after your sister. Take her and Beth and get as far away from here as possible. Don't you dare go back towards the church, understand?"

"How will you find us?" Beth cries out as Carl nods at me and grabs her hand already pulling her away.

I don't have the heart to tell her that we probably won't. When they have disappeared into the woods I run back to where I heard the gun shots. To where I know Daryl will be.

* * *

I keep close to the buildings and try to stay in the shadows. The sun may be setting but there isn't enough darkness to go completely unnoticed. My knife is clutched so tightly my knuckles are white but if I loosen my grip I am sure I will drop it from the nervous shaking of my bones. I am about to cross in front of the first house in the line of residences when I hear something from the second story.

"Psst!" I look up and I see a hand waving out through the air. I freeze where I am when I hear more gun fire, this time much closer. I take my chances with whoever is in the building and slip in quickly. I reach the stairs but they creak loudly with each step. I am half way up when there is shuffling at the landing and two shadows pass from the doorway.

"Easton?"

"Maggie?" I hiss back and then Glenn is poking his head out at me. I rush up to them and throw my arms around him in relief.

"Where have you been?" Maggie pulls me back into the bedroom and I see Carol huddled in the corner by the window. She has her gun's barrel resting on the ledge of it and is starring intently outside.

"I got the kids out."

"Like _out_ out?" Glenn's face seems hopeful and Maggie hugs me tightly when I tell her that Beth is with them.

"Where's everyone else?"

Carol turns from the window and bobs her head at the building across the street. "Hershel is over there with Sasha. It's too risky to chance him coming over here. Rick and Daryl took off the opposite way from us. I don't know where Tyreese is."

I move to stand by the window and see Sasha in the one across street, ground level. She too has her gun propped up in the window. "We need to get Hershel and Sasha out of there. Carol?" Glenn says from behind me.

"Yeah?"

"Do you see that car right there?"

There is a military style jeep down below with a camouflage print top cover. Carol nods and already understands. She turns out to Sasha and waves her arms about to get her attention. She points at herself then directly to the jeep. Sasha follows her arms movement and seems to grasp the plan.

"Carol I sent the kids into the woods off to the right of the gate but I don't think theres a road that runs the way they went."

"Daryl will be able to track them once we get out of here." Maggie says it firmly, like there is no other outcome to this situation. I hope she is right.

Carol leaves us and we hear, after a breathless few minutes, the roar of the car engine. Hershel busts through the door though he hobbles slowly to the car. Sasha is directly behind him and the jeep speeds off down the road.

"So what now?" I turn to Glenn and he looks expectantly at Maggie who shrugs her shoulders and winces. I pace past them and wait by the door.

"We need to find Rick."

"I bet if we find Rick we find Daryl and Tyreese." Maggie states.

"We also find the cannibals." I say grimly.

As I turn to head down the stairs, I come face to face with a tan man with bright green eyes. Before I can react the butt of a gun barrels toward me and cracks against my temple. The room goes black.

* * *

**AN: Btw I'm thinking about starting another twd fic about Carl and I want it to be dark and depressing as hell. It'll follow canon from the TV series and pick up 3 or 4 years after it. I made a quick little summary that i'll most likely use (;**

_Carl could still hear the Governor's voice in his head, calling him a coward, dragging him further down a road he knew there was no coming back from. He coiled the knife tighter into his palm as he entered the sleeping quarters. He didn't loosen his grip until he slit every last one of their throats._

**Let me know if that would be something you're interested in!**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: I AM SO MAD I WROTE A WHOLE CHAPTER OF MY NEW STORY AND IT DIDNT SAVE OMG and I'm way too excited to start posting for it**

**I know this was supposed to be up earlier than this but I got really frustrated writing it, action is apparently not my thing. Anyway, heres the second chapter! The next (and last!) will be up sometime this weekend. And hello to my new readers (:**

**it's also a good thing I don't do music for the show because it would be exclusively Mumford and sons. Seriously it's all I listen to when I write this**

* * *

Darkness still consumes me, though muffled noise leaks its way in. My head throbs, and the continuance makes me nauseous. From my shoulders to my feet it is hard and cold but my head feels like it is surrounded by soft warmth. It might be blood, I can't tell.

"Easton." There's pressure on my shoulder, "East, wake up." The voice is soft, but demanding.

I try to open my eyes but I am tired and my eye lids are too heavy. But I feel a groan bubble through my chest and hum in my lips. The pressure increases at my arm, forceful shaking that is desperate. The movement rocks my head and I try to pry my eyes open, this time I see a dark figure shadowed by a single light swinging from the ceiling.

"Easton?" The shadow shifts, and morphs into a very familiar form.

"Daryl?"

With my eyes finally open I can see his bright blue eyes clearly, though one is swollen and bruised. Realization that I am here with him surges me upward and I hug him before his image can disappear. Tight, strong arms wrap around my back and steady me as I sway with dizziness.

"Thank god," Rick mutters from behind me.

We are in a small room, most likely used for storage in the inn. There are a few empty boxes on lower shelves and neatly folded linens.

"What happened?" I mumble into Daryl's shoulder, refusing to let go just yet.

"They drug you in here," Rick circles the room and Daryl pulls back from me, inspecting the wound on my head. "Don't you remember?" Rick squats down next to us and turns my head to get a better look at the cut. Daryl presses the hem of his sleeve to it.

"Carl?" Rick whispers as he searches my eyes. "Judith?"

I give him a small smile and he releases a tense breath. "They're out. So is Beth." I turn to Daryl and smile a little wider, "And Carol. Hershel and Sasha, too." Daryl smiles back at me.

"What about Glenn and Maggie?" A slow, icy dread seeps through my spine.

"I - I don't know. We were in a house and Carol had just took off with Sasha and Hershel. And then we were coming to find you but there was a man and -" I shake my head, hoping to rattle the thoughts. "I don't know." Rick gives a solemn look to Daryl. "Where's Tyreese?"

"Caged him," Daryl says.

"Why'd they bring us in here? Why not put us in there too?"

"I think the only thing keeping us alive at the moment, is your brother." Rick says to Daryl, who doesn't seem grateful to the thought.

"Probably just gunna fuck with us soon, Merle ain't too happy with either of us."

"How long have we been in here?"

"Couple hours." He shrugs.

* * *

We wait and we wait. No one comes for us. There is no vent in the ceiling to escape from, no windows to shatter, and the door is solid. Both Daryl and Rick tried to kick it down but it would not budge.

I am tired but Daryl keeps me from nodding off, as instructed by Rick who thinks I might have a concussion. My head lulls to Daryl's shoulder and he pinches the skin of my tricep.

"Stay awake," he says. I give him a glare but he smirks at me. I rub the spot that is now red.

"If you do that one more time -"

"Shh," Rick has his ear pressed to the door and quickly backs up from it. Daryl shoves to a stand and pulls me up with him. The motion makes my head swim. "Someone's coming down the hall." He gets in a defensive stance, as does Daryl. I merely stand there with my hands at my sides.

Harsh light floods the small room as a man yanks open the door. Three others fill into the cramped space before the fourth shuts it behind himself. They all carry large guns.

"Hungry?" The tallest man flashes a wicked grin as he pulls long rope from his shoulder and starts to unwind it. He throws one section to the man on the left. The man kicks Ricks leg swiftly sending him to the ground. He binds his hands behind his back. Another man copies the action with both Daryl and I. The three of us kneel, bound and defenseless.

"The Governor requests your presence at dinner." Another wolfish grin etches across the tall mans features.

"Wanna know whats on the menu?" The smallest man kneels before me and twirls a piece of my hair around his finger. Daryl growls at him. The man doesn't pay him any mind and he leans closer to me. His hot, decayed breath swirls against my face. "Your little pal, Matt." The coldness from before surges down my back again.

"Where's Jenna?" He ignores my question.

"Any special requests?"

"What?" I blink back at him.

"To go with your last meal?" He laughs.

Rick looks to Daryl, we need a plan. Daryl is already leaning back on his feet and from the corner of my eye I see a glint in the light.

"Where's Maggie and Glenn?" Rick demands. All four guards turn to him, the one in front of me now standing up.

"You ain't the sheriff no more, you don't get to ask no questions." Another kicks him roughly in the gut. While they are distracted, Daryl slips me the knife. I grab it without taking my eyes off of the four men in the room. They are too busy harassing Rick to notice. When my hands are loose I shout at the men to leave him alone and the one who kicked rick, with greasy black hair, steps toward me.

I see Daryl gesture to their stomachs, they aren't wearing protective vests. Then suddenly Rick kicks the guard straight in the knee and he crys out in pain. His gun clatters to the ground and Rick swings his head in a circular motion meeting the guards forehead harshly. He crumples against the ground with a groan. Daryl already has the gun in his hand and fires it in a smooth line. The men didn't even have time to realize what had happened. I begin slicing away at the ropes around Ricks wrists.

Rick snags two of the guns from the men and slings one around him. He gives three quick shots to the heads of each man and then comes back to the one he had hit. The man slides away the best he can but the bullet is quicker. Daryl grabs the third mans gun and slings it over himself just as Rick had. I stand but the movement makes my head rush. I turn to Rick, "how many of those guys are left?"

Rick turns to Daryl who says that he shot two before they got captured. Rick added that, with the four he saw Tyreese take out, and these four. "Maybe ten. Including their leader."

"And my son of a bitch brother." Daryl growls out.

"Alright," Rick peeks his head out of the door but no one has seemed to notice the gun shots. "Here's the plan: we need Tyreese but he's in the cages. I need a distraction so I can catch the men who are watching it off guard. Once we get that cage open we're going to have a lot of weak people that we need to help out. If Merle is still upstairs, that leaves about eight soldiers and the Governor unaccounted for. Easton?"

"Yeah?"

"I need that distraction to be a good one."

"I can give ya a better one." I turn to Daryl and his eyes are dark. Rick nods at him. I try to protest but Rick is already taking off down the hall and Daryl pushes me in front of him. When we get to a set of stairs Rick nods at Daryl again. Before he leaves us, Daryl pulls me roughly towards him and crushes me against his chest. My face is buried in his flannel. He still smells of campfire.

"Don't do anything stupid," I mumble.

He pulls back and smirks slightly, "This ain't the last you'll see of me, sunshine." Before he leaves, he brushes his lips against my forehead and then is bounding up the stairs two at a time.

I turn my attention back to Rick, pushing my fear of what may happen to Daryl aside. "Now what?" I clutch Daryl's knife tightly in my hand.

"The cages are behind the kitchen, which is at the end of this hallway."

We sprint down the dimly lit passage. Two guards turn a corner right in front of us but before they can raise their weapons, Rick is slicing the first mans throat and I crack my gun against the other. Luckily they were the smaller of the soldiers and didn't put up much of a fight. Rick removes a knife from one of the man's belts and drives it into their foreheads. It frightens me at first, how natural this seems for him, but I see the remorse in his eyes almost immediately which softens my alarm.

I enter the kitchen silently, Rick is so close behind me I can feel his breath on the skin of my arms. Everything is scattered around the floor. Rick motions to the door across the room. There is a small window in the paneling and I can see the moon outside. It makes me think of the office at the grocery store. He glances through the window and holds a palm out to stop me from opening it. I pause until he whispers for me to go and we slip out into the night.

* * *

We are sitting in the shadows behind a bar counter. There is a large cage, crammed with people about 20 yards away. Most are sickly looking, probably starving, except for Tyreese who takes up most of the area in the front. He towers over the other captives. His hands are gripping the bars and he is yelling something out at the soldiers but they ignore him.

"Come on, Daryl." Rick is getting impatient.

Suddenly there is a loud scream and a man comes falling from the sky thudding against the ground. The impact clouds up dirt around him and the other men rush towards their comrade. I look up and there is Daryl with his gun aimed down at the men. He starts firing and they duck for cover but by now Rick is joining in.

"Easton, the cage!"

I run over to the group of people and Tyreese is hollering at the rest of them to calm down. Some of them still scream, others are crying. Some stand there blankly. There are four men and five women. I fumble with the lock but it needs a key. I rush over to a fallen man and search through his pockets. When I get to the second man, I find a ring of them in his breast pocket. Another man comes barreling through the window and lands roughly on the small roof that hangs over the courtyard before rolling to the dirt. Daryl is jumping down from the window and lands soundly on the roof. When he is on the ground he grabs the man by the collar and tosses him towards the only other guard still alive. It is Merle. They have them on their knees with their hands above their heads.

"Don't be like that, little brother." Merle groans.

I linger for a moment at the scene, mesmerized by the flash of malice in Daryl's eyes. Tyreese shouts at me and I am back at the cage in an instant. I have to go through dozens of keys before I find the one that unlocks it. It clicks open. Tyreese lumbers toward Rick and Daryl.

The men and women have coward back into the corner of the cage. Their sobbing and fear increases my anxiety dramatically. I slowly step inside and tuck my knife into my waist band before raising my hands in a friendly gesture.

"I'm not going to hurt you," they look unconvinced. "I'm going to get you out of here," to which receives a better response.

"You have to do exactly what I say though, understand?" They nod back enthusiastically. "We're going to run. I need to run as fast as you can."

A thin man steps cautiously forward. "We are weak." He looks over to the women. "We may not be fast enough."

"What other choice do we have?" I say. He nods in agreement and helps a sickly woman through the threshold of the cage.

"Alright," I take in the appearance of the people, tattered clothing, dark bruises, and hollow faces. My heart clenches with pity. "Through the kitchen," I point over to the door, "down the hallway, and out through the entrance. Once we get out we're going straight for the gates." I chance one more look at Daryl who follows me with hot eyes as I lead the people out of the courtyard and back through the kitchen. The prisoners are breathing heavily, scared anxious breaths, but above that I hear a soft scratching noise. As I walk further into the kitchen, the scratching intensifies. The man who spoke up earlier stops in front of the freezer and turns his head to it. Something thumps loudly against it and the man jumps backwards. I draw my knife and take a deep breath and pull it open. A puff of frozen air clouds around the opening and a small body is throwing itself toward me. I step out of its way and push it to the floor. A woman screams and the others gasp.

Brown, brittle curls frame the face that turns back to look at me from the ground. It snarls dangerously. My heart stops. It's Jenna. Her skin is grey and icy, crystals clinging to the strands of her hair and her eyelashes are frosted over. She clammers her way to my feet and paws at my pant legs, gnawing at my boot.

"I'm so sorry, Jenna." I whisper as I squat down to her and dig my knife into the center of her scalp. Not wanting to leave her exposed I turn to drag her back into the cooler, but when I turn, I realize she was not the only body in it.

Maggie and Glenn are huddled in the corner, Glenn's arms are wrapped around his fiance with fingers laced tight. Her head is nestled in the crook of his neck and his lips are buried in her hair. Their eyes are closed. I take a hesitant step forward, "Maggie? Glenn?" but they don't respond. A soft cry slips from my throat and I fall to the floor in front of them.

Just like Jenna, ice crystals have frosted over their eyelashes and their lips are blueish purple. There are no puffs of air streaming from their noses, and I fear that I won't find a pulse in their necks. I inch closer and in a quick motion check for one. They are already dead. Maggie's left hand is clutching onto Glenn's arm and her ring shines brightly in the blue, frosty light. I reach out and smooth down her hair but it cracks at my touch. I let another small cry ring out in the freezer. There are teeth marks on Maggie's leg, from Jenna, but the skin must have been too hard because it isn't torn and there is only one, perfect set. I pull down the frozen pant leg trying to cover it when her body stirs. I swallow another cry. Her face twitches slightly and the fingers around Glenn's arm loosen. I sit, ready to end the reanimation, but selfishly, I wait to see if the real Maggie is who opens her eyes. It is not.

* * *

When I remove the blade from her temple, I repeat the action with Glenn. I take one long look at the couple, before I drag Jenna in and prop her beside them and shut the freezer door. The prisoners give me sympathetic looks as I lean back on the door, fiercely wiping away the tears from my face. I turn without a word and head out of the kitchen.

The captives fumble their way behind me as we break out into the exposed road. We run a block and I am surprised at the speed the weakened people have, but its not much further when their pace slows considerably. We rest near the house that I was in earlier with Maggie and Glenn. My gut clenches and I have to look away before I lose it completely. I point to the gate and the able take off. I tell them to run the road, but off near the trees. I tell them they should see people from my group.

There are two men and three women left with me. I throw the weakest woman's arm over my shoulder and we limp slowly behind the other four. By now the others have disappeared from view down the road, but at the rate this group is going, we'd be lucky to do the same in several minutes.

We are just getting to the entrance of the camp when a low rumbling fills my ears. I panic, as do the others, who look at me for comfort. But I have nothing to give them. I try to usher them behind a building when I realize the noise is coming from outside the camp. I see the jeep that Carol took earlier, rising over the hill and it stops in front of us. Carol is still behind the wheel. Sasha and Carl jump down from the back and start loading the people in.

Carol helps pull a few women up and into the jeep while I try to boost the woman thrown around my arms into the passenger seat. When they are secured I release a tense breathe.

I turn to Carl, "I told you to get as far away from here as possible." He shrugs his shoulders and grins at me.

"You know him, never listens." Carol laughs. "I'm dropping this load off with Beth and then we're coming back."

"Carol -"

"Easton, we're family. Family fights together. We'll be back for you." She reverses the jeep and spins it wildly around before zooming off. The red tail lights are the only thing I see in the dark. I rest for only a moment longer before I break out in a run back to the inn.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Here it is! The final chapter (: just want to say thanks to everyone who has been reading and especially to those that have left me some reviews! Also just want to remind you that I'm going to be starting a new twd story and the first chapter should be posted shortly (within the next week!) Enjoy (:**

* * *

Before I reach the inn, I see the men have exited the building and now stand in the road just outside of it. When my footsteps begin to echo through the walls of the town, four different guns snap in my direction, aiming purposefully at my head. Luckily, none of them are trigger happy. Rick and Daryl immediately turn back to the Governor and his men while I walk forward with my hands up, showing them I am unarmed, at least with fire power. Suddenly coming back seems like a horrible idea. But Carol said we were family and that family fights alongside one another. So I walk closer to them and come to stand by Daryl.

He doesn't look at me directly, "You shouldn'ta came back."

"I had to," I say.

"Well ain't that just sweet as shit." Merle drones up at us.

Daryl shoves his gun down in his face, "Shut the hell up." Even with the weapon pointed between his eyes, Merle doesn't look afraid. I don't think he should, Daryl would never kill his brother.

"Now, now," says the man across from us, "That's no way to treat family."

"He ain't my brother no more." Daryl seethes though Merle flinches at his words.

"Now, I told you, gentleman," Rick calls out, "We're leavin' here and you're going to let us."

"I can't let you do that Rick." The man shakes his head slowly.

"Why the hell not?" Daryl spits at him.

The Governor strides past him and says, "you see, I welcomed you into my home and what do you do? You shoot all my men. Then you free my livestock. Haven't you ever heard of southern hospitality, Sheriff? All I wanted was a few of your group."

"So you could rape the women and corrupt the children," Rick raises his gun higher.

"So I could start a new civilization." He gestures with his hands around him. "I was going to build a sanctuary. There's no chance of that now, thanks to you and your people."

"I guess we have a problem then."

"I suppose that's true." Neither move but clearly a dance has started.

"How 'bout Daryl stays and the rest can go, call it even." Merle pipes up from the ground. I'm the only one who looks at him. I glance up at the Governor and annoyance flashes across his face before his blank stare returns. Merles eyes shift over to me and he shrugs his shoulders. I can't tell whose side he's on.

"Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged," the soldier shoots but Rick was ready and nails him in the chest. I instinctively duck down and shield my head. Merle is still staring at me, though his eyes widen with the shot. The Governor looks down at his fallen soldier and sighs heavily before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, alright. How about," he scans his eyes over us, "Rick you stay. The rest can go."

This time Daryl voices his rejection but Rick takes on a calculating look. He is considering the offer. Daryl looks over at him in disbelief.

"Ya can't be serious. Ain't no way in hell, Rick."

"Daryl, I need you to get the group to safety."

"Like hell, I ain't leavin' you here man."

"Oh," Merle huffs, "him you won't leave, huh?"

Daryl kicks at Merles stomach forcing him on his back. "Shut up, Merle."

"What're ya gunna do, shoot me? Go ahead, bro. Shoot me." The words are coaxing and Daryl's finger traces the trigger. His shoulders are rigid and he is breathing shallowly.

"Can't even do it, fuckin' pussy." Merle spits at his brothers feet before Daryl's boot swings roughly into the side of his head. Merle rolls over and spits again, this time blood splatters the dirt.

"Don't fuckin' talk to me, understand?" The words sound contorted with pain and it makes me reach out to him. I tug the gun down. I don't particularly want to spare his brother, but I know that if he pulls the trigger, it is something he will not be able to live with.

The low hum of an engine and slow turning off tire comes from behind us. I turn to see the jeep roll to a stop some twenty feet back. Carl and Sasha drop down from the vehicle with guns drawn. Hershel is sitting in the drivers seat and Carol stands in the passenger side, her gun also pointed.

With Daryl riled up and distracted, Merle lunges for the gun and rips it from his's hands, but to my surprise he twists and aims at the Governor. A shot rings out and connects solidly in the man's side, but not before he gets off a shot of his own. Merle's body lurches forward and then drops back into the dirt. Blood pools at the back of his head. Daryl gives a muffled whine and steps haphazardly towards the body. Rick grips his gun tighter.

The scene before me reminds me of old westerns that my grandfather had watched, men on either sides of a saloon, standing in a sea of dirt. The Governor holds a hand to his bleeding side but the other, outstretched with his pistol, does not waver in pain. Rick stares him down. Daryl is still off to his side but can't seem to tare his eyes from his brothers corpse. Tyreese has moved over in front of Carol, Sasha, and Carl.

"Just you and me, Sheriff." The Governor panted.

"It's over. Surrender." The pleading tone in Rick's voice betrays his face, stoney and authoritative.

"Never." The growl is drowned out by rapid fire. Only one shot sounds from Rick but the proximity tore through my ear drums as I duck down to the ground with hands pressed to my ears. The governor falls and several shots explode from his gun, ricocheting off the buildings around us.

When the last shot rings through the street, Rick slowly approaches the man. For a moment, Rick stands above his body in silence before raising his gun one last time.

"It's over," I exhale as I turn to Daryl but he is standing with a firm hand pressed against his chest with a strange look on his face. I step closer and see the blood, seeping from between his fingers. He gives me a confused look before staggering to the ground.

"Rick!" I scream and try to still Daryl beneath my hands. They have found the wound and I press on it with my entire weight. Rick tumbles down next to me, the asphalt tearing at the knees of his pants.

"Shh," his blood is hot and sticky as it continues to flow even with the pressure I am applying. "Shhh." He whimpers at the crimson staining my arms.

"Hershel," I cry out, "go get Hershel." Rick is gone in an instant and it feels like years before he returns. The slamming of the car door barely audible over my cries. The old man removes my shaking arms and rips open Daryl's flannel. His eyes inspect the wound and crinkle as he sits back on his heels.

"I am sorry," he says after a moment shaking his head. I push him away with a cry and take Daryl's head between my hands, now blood stained from his chest wound.

"This should have been me, this should have been me," my words are hollow and dry. I rock back and forth and settle my forehead against his. I can hear the muffled cries of the others around us. Rick is saying no no _no_. Carol is crying. This is her best friend. She loved him too. Sasha is trying to keep Carl back, but he is saying no no _no._ Daryl is slipping and there is nothing I can do to stop it. _This should have been me_.

Hershel has moved to the opposite side of him, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want," Daryl winces and closes his eyes briefly. "He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, and he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake."

"Stop!" I yell at him, "He's not going to die! This isn't a damn funeral." But Daryl grips at my thigh and I know that it is.

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," he continues, "I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord, forever." Silence fills the air except for Daryl's desperate breaths.

"East, gun?" He coughs up blood.

"No," the shaking of my head flicks the tears from my face.

He reaches up and strokes my cheek. "don't wanna be one of 'em. Y'promised 'member?"

"Not like this!" I cry out. Tremors rake down my shoulders. His eyes beg me but I can't do it. If I kill Daryl then I kill myself. Rick kneels down next to Hershel and places his gun beside him.

"We can't let it end like this, Easton. Let him die a good man not a monster." There are river paths on his cheeks where tears have washed away the caked on dirt. "I'll do it."Rick whispers. Carl now stands behind him with a small, but heavy hand on his shoulder.

Daryl pulls my face down and kisses me. He lightly presses his lips to mine while I kiss him back frantically, "I'm sorry I can't save you. You saved me but I can't save you." I mumble.

"Don't ever give up, understand?" His eyes flutter.

My eyes flood and he becomes a blurry haze. I kiss him again then Tyreese's arms are around me dragging me away. I'm begging them but I know they won't listen, I know that they can't.

Daryl turns his head to look at me while I thrash against Tyreese but he is too strong. My body goes limp as Daryl closes his eyes. It leaves peacefulness on his face. He looks exactly like he did when I first found him.

Rick places his hand on top of Daryl's head to keep him still. It looks like he mutters a pray to himself, "Goodbye, brother."

_Bang._

* * *

We have a funeral back at the church. Five neat graves are dug in a row. Carol steps down inside the fifth and shortest one and I lift the little girl up in my arms before handing her down to the older woman, who looks at her with such sorrow I know that she see's her daughter. I finally understand what Sophia had meant to Daryl. Sasha and Tyreese begin to fill the earth back in each one. Carl made five crosses and sticks them at the head of the graves.

Hershel says another verse from the bible, I don't really hear what he says. I'm not sure he said much of anything through his sobbing. Beth crumbles at the foot of Maggie's grave, burying her fingers into the freshly packed dirt. The survivors from the camp stand off in the distance. They do not intrude but wish to pay their respects to their saviors.

I wrap my arms around my torso, wishing they were Daryl's. I wanted us to die in old age, crushed by the weight of all the love we carried. I wanted my hair to turn grey and for Daryl to tell me he didn't give a damn about it. But his absence is a reminder that we will not always be here, we will not always survive. Not even him, the strongest of us all.

I don't know how long I stand there, starring down at his patch of dirt. I hope he has found peace, I picture him at the cabin with Sophia. I wonder if he has met Nilaya.

A light rain patters against the ground. I look up to the dark clouds that filter through the sky. Carol comes from the church and places a heavy jacket around me. Before she leaves she kisses my temple softly. I breathe in the smell of Daryl and close my eyes, remembering the day I met him: the man with the angel wings. The wings that are woven into the leather that protects me from the wind; the wings that are woven into me.

_Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me._


End file.
